The Path of Gray
by Chasmodai
Summary: AU. S7 never happened. Freed from prison and running from her past, Faith is forced to return to Sunnydale. As she fights her inner demons and faces old friends and enemies, a shadow war rages that threatens to destroy the world.
1. The Warrior's Life

**Chapter 1: The Warrior's Life**

After all the trouble she'd been through to get herself inside, she never thought it was going to be that easy to get out. But out she was, and with good reason. It almost brought tears to her eyes but that was the fact of life. You live it, in pain and sadness and anger, and then you die. Sometimes slowly, sometimes abruptly, but die you will.

Buffy had died. For a worthy cause, she was told. To save the world she was told. To stop a goddess from enslaving humanity she was told.

_Cut the bull, B. You died cos you were tired of living to fight, of fighting to live. You died cos you gave up._

She understood what that was like. She gave up once, a long time ago, but never took the much more permanent route of death. No, she took the harder, more painful road of turning evil. She started walking the wrong side of the tracks and it took a hard effort to pull her back into the light. And in her line of work, that was all it was.

Light and dark. Black and white. Evil and good. Clear lines separated the two, with just enough space for the shades of gray to lie in comfort. Right now she treaded the gray, striving for the light, but too comfortable and attached to the dark to make the journey easy. But she was told it was going to be difficult. The price of giving up was picking up the pieces afterwards. Like a 10,000 piece puzzle smashed onto the floor, putting your life back together was going to need a lot of patience and determination.

She had sat through prison for a year. Not that long by some standards, but in her business, a year was practically a lifetime.

Her name was Faith. She was the Vampire Slayer. Her line of work was putting herself into the path of danger against the supernatural forces of evil so that normal people could go to sleep safe at night.

She had smashed the puzzle, and was slowly putting it back together, one piece at a time.

* * *

Long story short, the Council came and gave her a choice. Come back into the fold as an obedient Council Slayer – complete with Watcher and all – or they'd pay the guards to look away while she slowly got strangled to death in the toilet. The choice was obvious, really. Give the Council the finger and go down fighting.

But something made her stop and think. Maybe it was a feeling of guilt. A debt she owed to B, maybe. Or the Angel. Or to someone else. It hardly mattered. Her road to redemption wasn't really getting walked with her in prison and getting killed in the can was not something she really looked forward to.

Not that the alternative was pleasing, either. But the Council guys they sent told her that the vote to keep her alive was won by a _very_ slim margin. So she figured she could behave for a little while. Be the nice girl for once and listen to orders. Hell, after a year in prison, following rules and orders almost came in second nature.

So she'd play with Council. Go back out into the world, fight the good fight. Probably get killed fighting, some random night by some random demon or vampire. It was better than getting a shiv in the back from a pissed-off inmate. She didn't have to go back to Sunnydale, not yet. She had the option of getting a Watcher, which she declined. They left her an unlimited line of credit and a warning that if she so much as let a toe stray across that line again, they would end her time as Slayer.

So she was going to play nice. Who knows? Maybe she'd come to like it.

* * *

It had been 2 years. Other than the one time Wesley had called her and asked for help with Angelus – she nearly gave up that time, nearly died trying to save Angel - she hadn't talked to anyone important besides her contact at the Council, Jonathan. She talked to Angel once in a while, exchanged a few pleasantries, always promising to drop by, but never keeping it. She had definitely not talked to anyone from Sunnydale.

Oh yeah. She got word that the other Slayer had come back to life. _See?__Knew__you__couldn__'__t__give__up__the__fight__for__long,__B.__It__ain__'__t__like__you._

She lived her life alone, days asleep and getting stoned by prime-time television, nights in the endless adrenaline of the fight. She'd traveled much of America and to other parts of the world. Traveled enough to know that the Hellmouth wasn't the only place where bad things happened. Heck, compared to the backwoods of Malaysia and Indonesia, the stuff that demons do in the 'Dale seemed pretty damn tame.

Demons there knew the town belonged to the Slayer. That meant, however, that the demons across the wide world ran rampant, knowing there wasn't much that was able to stop them. So Faith took on the hard fight of letting the word spread. There were _two_ Slayers now, and the world wasn't as safe for the nightlife as it once was.

That was the way the life of the Slayer was supposed to be. Travel the world, fight evil, and maybe stop apocalypses once or twice. Die a violent, bloody death; go to the place with the harps and clouds and angels. B changed all that, much like she changed a lot of other things. B was good at that.

But there were two Slayers now, and the line would continue through her. She needed to fight the fight like it was meant to be fought. Let B have her life in Sunnydale, with her friends and family. She deserved that much. This was the only life Faith knew. The only life she deserved.

The warrior's life.


	2. Perfect Shades of Gray

**Standard disclaimers apply.**

**Summary: Things start getting interesting. The rest of the cast will be making an appearance in the next chapter.

* * *

**

**Chapter 2: Perfect Shades of Gray**

There was a crocodile monster stalking the sewers of Singapore. Nice clean place like this doesn't deserve its hobos getting eaten by a crocodile monster. Faith had been hunting the thing for nearly a month, with little luck. The Council didn't have much of a presence here, and there was little to be found in the demon population here. The people were too pragmatic and practical to waste time over silly things like those that go bump in the night.

So it was just her and her dog Dex. Yeah, she had a dog. It was a big gray mongrel, with half a tail, a missing eye and an over-eager tongue. Dex looked like the kind of dog you'd get if every single dog in the world had a big canine orgy and the meanest bitch in the bunch got pregnant. Faith had met him in Germany, limping away from a victory and took him in. He had stayed by her side ever since.

With no demons to provide her a proper information network, Faith had to work with her ear close to the ground. Dex was a great help, with his nose and all. She'd almost had him trained as a proper bloodhound. The fact that there were hardly any demons here also meant that there were hardly any demon hunters. This place had no protection against the supernatural, besides the superstitious kind. Singapore wasn't a regular stop for Faith, but she made sure she cleaned it out every time she came here.

She had managed to track the crocodile monster all the way to its lair within some tunnels that fed out into one of the island's many reservoirs. She patted Dex on the head and the mongrel obediently sat down, licking her hand as he did so. She pulled out a pair of gloves from her jacket and silently put them on, flexing her fingers to make the leather stretch snugly.

The gloves looked like any normal pair of gloves. But the knuckles had been lined with lead, allowing for a much more solid punch. The only downside was that they got heavy after a while which made swinging her fists harder. Faith didn't plan on this being a drawn-out fight, though, but her experience told her that anything could happen. The sewer was wet, slippery, dark and cramped. Movement would be hard and the wrong step could mean her death.

She crept nearer to the crocodile monster's lair and stopped as she heard voices. Her eyes adjusted to the gloom of the lair and she saw the lashing tail of the crocodile monster. She also saw a slim man standing in front of it. Judging from the way his hands moved he seemed quite agitated.

"You shouldn't be doing this. You agreed that you would not do this," the man was saying.

The crocodile monster (it was pretty much a crocodile/man hybrid, like a crocodile with opposable thumbs, standing on two feet) gnashed the teeth in its very long maw threateningly. "I suppose you're here to enforce that agreement,"

Faith's ears perked at that. Maybe this island did have some sort of protection after all. She was a busy Slayer and fitting this little island into her schedule was getting harder by the month. "No. You know that's not what I do," the man said. Faith resisted heaving out a sigh of disappointment.

"Then why are you here? Talk quickly before I decide to make you my next meal," the monster replied impatiently. Faith clenched her muscles, waiting to spring into action.

"_She_ is coming for you,"

From the way the man said the word 'she', he meant someone dangerous. Someone very deadly. The crocodile monster's tail lashed at that and it snapped its jaw at the man. The man didn't even flinch.

"She wouldn't dare," it said, with more bravado in its voice than was evident in its body.

"You know she would. She doesn't care for you or your kind. You've killed and taken human flesh. That is all the provocation she needs to kill you,"

"She isn't that tough. I could take her," the monster said, its bravado growing by the minute, even as its balls – if it had any, biologically speaking – shrank. "She's only human, after all,"

"Idiot!" the man snapped. "Why would they be so scared of her if she was _merely_ human? She could kill you without breaking a sweat and you know that!"

Faith realized with a start that they were talking about _her_.

The crocodile monster's tail lashed so violently she thought it was going to take a part of the wall with it. It leaned down towards the man and growled. "What do you expect me to do?"

"Leave here. Honor the agreement," the man said, pointing in the direction of the reservoir. "Find someplace else to live. Forget feasting on human flesh and you might live to see the next century,"

The crocodile monster growled again, but ran off into the darkness, its claws scraping against the slick stone. The man breathed heavily and leaned against the tunnel wall. "You can come out now, Slayer," he said, startling her. He had given no indication that he knew she was there. "That one will no longer be bothering humans,"

Faith walked towards the man and saw him shaking out a pack of cigarettes. "Who are you?" she asked, warily, as the man began smoking.

"An interested party," he replied, voice weary. "There are many other like me who police those like him,"

She detected the sneer in his voice as he said that last word. "Like you? Like him? What do you mean?"

"I mean more interested parties and more monsters," he said. His eyes studied her, scanning her from head to toe. "It's a pleasure to finally meet the Slayer,"

"Uh-huh,"

He smiled thinly. "You do not trust me?"

"My mom always told me not to trust strange men who hang out in sewers with man-eating monsters," Faith replied.

"Your mom was a wise one," he said, still smiling.

"Yeah, that she was," Faith muttered, darkly. "Now, you gonna tell me what that exchange was all about, or should I beat it outta you?"

"Perhaps you would allow me to finish my cigarette before we begin with the violence?" the man said. Faith decided then that she didn't like his smile.

"Whatever you want, hotshot. You want a last meal to go with that?" she said. Two could play at the witty banter.

"Confident. Exactly what I'd expect from a Slayer who doesn't see her death coming straight for her," the man said, flicking the cigarette butt away. "Exactly, what I'd expect from someone who doesn't realize that she's in over her head,"

The man was slim, and didn't seem very well-built. He was not much taller than her, and his reach wasn't that much greater either. She could tell that he had muscles, but he seemed like the type who fought with speed, not power. However, she could not have expected the speed with which he struck. It was a blindingly swift move, one that could have crushed her windpipe if she hadn't involuntarily taken a step backwards and slipped on a wet patch, causing her to fall.

The man's fist swiped thin air. Faith ate a mouthful of dirty sewage water. Spitting it out, she heard the man's derisive chuckle. "Now that is a move no one can see coming. Dive headfirst into sewage to avoid getting killed,"

"Actually, I was avoiding the sound of your voice," Faith said, in between spits. "It's really getting annoying, y'know that?"

"So I've been told. Do you want to get up now so that I can resume killing you?" the man said. She could all but see the sneer in his voice.

"That's it you sonofa-" Faith's lunge and swing was met with only thin air. Her surprise cut off the rest of her words and she overbalanced, checking her fall only by slapping her open palms to the ground. She frantically turned around, and saw the man standing _behind_ her, his fist moving for her throat again, like a cobra striking its prey.

Faith raised her arm to block the blow, and was rewarded by the sound of her forearm snapping. Shrieking in pain, she stumbled to her feet, clutching her arm to her chest.

"Fast. But really; not fast enough," the man said, as if he was teaching a karate class. In the space of time it takes for an eye to blink once, he was directly in front of her, so close she could smell his breath on her face. Only when she saw his sneering smile did she feel the fist in her solar plexus, and by the time her brain registered the impact, she was flying backwards into the wall.

Her mind reeled. She had never encountered anyone – anything – so fast before. Not Buffy, not Angel. He moved with abrupt grace, starting and stopping like the world was too slow for him and he was doing it a favor by keeping his speed in check. Even as these thoughts ran through her head, she staggered to her feet, trying to find her breath. He was abruptly there again, and another small explosion rocked her body and then he was standing over her body.

Her brain was working overtime to keep up with the man's actions. She gasped aloud, trying to understand what the hell just happened. He grabbed her by the throat and lifted her easily into the air, as if she was puppy's chew toy. "In over your head," he said, enunciating each word with relish. "Unfortunately, it is not yet time to kill you. Disappointing, but all in good time, Slayer, all in good time,"

He dropped her and her brain finally caught up, and she screamed aloud from the sudden, shocking pain of four broken ribs, a broken jaw and a broken forearm. Inside, she sobbed from the pain of a broken spirit, as he walked away, leaving her to lie in the dirty sewer.

* * *

_She was soaring._

_Flying, more like. Weaving her way through the air as if gravity meant nothing to her, her muscles coiling, twisting, bunching, releasing in smooth motions that propelled her forward, ever forward._

_She saw the bright morning sky above her, and rolled onto her back, lazily drifting along on a draft. Below her was darkness, an almost total pitch black that was illuminated by a hazy red glow. She twisted around again, moving forward. Try as she might, she could not ascend. And though the darkness beckoned to her like a long-lost lover, she could not descend either. _

_She looked around her. She flew amidst a sky that was illuminated by light and dimmed by darkness. She flew amidst a sky that was made out of perfect shades of gray._

_She woke up.

* * *

_

Faith woke up to the sound of her cell phone ringing. She had no idea how long she'd been in that sewer, only knew that her body hurt. She knew that she had been thoroughly beaten by a man who had walked away afterwards. The first thought that sprang to her head when she awoke was that Singapore had very good reception.

A warm, wet tongue was suddenly licking her face. Dex. The dog's half-tail wagged frantically at the fact that she was awake. "Hey," she croaked out. She could talk. Her jaw had healed, which meant she had been in here for at least a day. He yelped happily and butted her face with his nose, asking her to stand up.

"How long you've been there, boy?" she asked, rhetorically, putting her uninjured hand on his neck for support to rise. _How long have _I_ been here?_

Dex whined pitifully and licked her hand. _Poor thing must be starving._ She staggered the first few steps and had to lean against the wall. She was definitely not up to walking. Her ribs ached, which made breathing painful. Her arm hung limp by her side, although she felt the familiar itch of Slayer healing kicking in. Dex, noticing his mistress' pain, promptly sat down in front of her and gestured with his paw.

Faith had to smile, despite the dull throb in her jaw. "Good boy," she said as she slid to the floor. Dex ran a small circle in front of her and slid his head under her uninjured arm, then lied down beside her. "Gimme a couple hours, boy. I'll get you some food after,"

_And I gotta call Jonathan._

Dex yelped happily. Faith closed her eyes, and drifted off to the merciful land where there was no pain.

* * *

_She soared, once more. The shades of gray wrapped themselves around her, enveloping her like a protective cocoon. A cry from above her drew her attention and she looked upwards to see another like her. Wrapped in a glittering golden light, her sister called to her, asking her to soar upwards, ever upwards._

_A roar from below made her look downwards. Wrapped in an engulfing black, her brother called to her, asking her to plummet downwards, ever downwards._

_She could not ascend, she could not descend. _

_She flew forward, ever forward.

* * *

_

"Jon?"

"Faith? Is that you? I've been trying to call you for the past 2 days!"

Her Watcher contact was frantic. Faith had never met Jonathan before. He wasn't even her Watcher proper, cos she didn't have one. She'd only ever talked to him on the phone, asking for research and information. Never touched on their personal lives, never made small talk. His concern for her came as a shock.

"Yeah, Jon. I'm in a bad way," she replied, her voice strained from the exhaustion of trudging out of the sewers.

"What happened? Where are you?"

"Singapore. Sewers. Got beaten," was her terse answer. She was still pissed at that and her anger only made her aches and bruises feel worse. Dex padded at her side, tongue lolling out. He gamely kept her moving forward, despite being hungry and tired.

"By what? Describe them to me," Jonathan said, all business-like again.

"Them? Jon, there was only one of him,"

"One? Him?"

"And as far as I could tell, he was human," Faith said. She'd reached a ladder, and craned her neck upwards, wondering how she'd climb out with one broken arm and a dog to carry. "My senses weren't screaming out 'demon', so I don't figure he was one. Could magic have done it?"

"Maybe. I'll have to check it up. Now, will you be alright?"

"I'll be fine, Jon," Faith said. Once I get out of this damn sewer. "Call me back when you get some info,"

She hung up without waiting for his reply. His concern was starting to make her feel uncomfortable.


	3. Prophecies, Apocalypses and Sunnydale

**Standard disclaimers apply.**

**Currently trying to figure out the 'ship for this fic. B/F? F/X? F/S? Gimme ideas and suggestions.

* * *

**

**Chapter 3: Prophecies, Apocalypses and Sunnydale

* * *

**

_It had enveloped him, embraced him during his plunge into despair and tragedy. It had wrapped him like a lover, caring for him like a mother. It had fed his despair, hate, pity and self-loathing. It had caressed his hurts, stoked his anger, nurtured him on despise. It had loved him for all his faults and flaws and made him perfect because of it._

_It had set his feet back on the world and showed him what to do._

_The world belonged on the ground. It was perfect there. _

_The only path was downwards.

* * *

_

It took a bit of doing, but she finally managed to hit her hotel room. She just managed to drag off her leather pants before collapsing on the bed, wincing as she jarred her still broken arm. Slayer healing would deal with that, but it would take at least another week. She wasn't used to the pain. She'd suffered cuts, bruises and massive trauma before. But Slayer bones simply didn't break.

Dex whined and licked her hand. She opened her eyes and realized that the poor mongrel still hadn't eaten. Her stomach growled at the thought of food, and she realized that she hadn't had a proper meal in about three days. She reached for the phone – it was time for room service.

She cradled her arm and wondered how to take the rest of her clothes off. She stank of the sewer and needed a shower badly. So did Dex, and bathing him was a feat that required all her energy and strength. She reached for the phone again and called for a Council medical team. Her arm was fractured, she could tell. It would take her about a week to heal, and having it dangling around without a proper cast was only going to make it worse.

She was dozing off when her cell phone rang.

"'Lo?"

"Faith. You're back at the hotel," It was Jonathan, and he wasn't asking her a question. She sometimes wondered how he got his information and why he wasn't working as a government spy and making tons more cash.

"Whatcha got for me?" she sat up, hiding a groan. Jonathan was in business-mode now, and this was the Jonathan that Faith was familiar and comfortable with.

"Prophecies, apocalypses and Sunnydale," he replied. "I doubt you're very happy to here of either,"

"I get by. How much time?"

"Variable. Go meet the other Slayer ASAP. Less time you waste-"

"The more time I got," Faith finished for him. "Gotcha, Jon. Call me if you find anything more,"

"Undoubtedly,"

The call disconnected with a soft click. Faith tossed the phone onto the bedside table and reached into her bag, pulling out a PDA. Maneuvering it as well as she could with one hand, she checked for the e-mail that Jonathan had unfailingly sent her. He always sent the information before calling, for some reason.

She skimmed through the details of the prophecy, finding nothing very special. It pretty much heralded some sort of 'end-of-the-world scenario', and the 'dawn of a new age'. No names or important players were mentioned, which was strange. She shrugged and switched off the gadget. She'd wait for Jonathan to decipher the entire thing and send her the Cliff notes version.

Faith was wondering if prophets spoke in riddles when asking for second helpings, or only when they were seeing the 'future'.

Then she fell asleep.

* * *

_It came down on her like a bolt of blazing gold. It wrapped her in shining, golden warmth, enhancing her joy, enlarging her heart with love and feeding her soul with peace. It held her like a caring father, drawing her upwards like a worshipper. It saw her for all the good she'd done and saw the perfection in her._

_It did not need to make her perfect – she already was._

_It set her in the sky and she soared upwards, ever upwards, reaching new heights of flawlessness. The world belonged in the drive to perfection._

_The only path was upwards.

* * *

_

Six hours later, her arm was in a cast, her belly was full and Dex was content. They were on a plane to L.A., one of Singapore's express flights – it would only take eighteen hours for them to cross the ocean and land at the airport. She was kind of worried. She had not talked to anybody from the old gang in two years. Sure, she had left Angel a message when she'd gotten released, but other than, she was pretty much a ghost.

She wondered how they'd take to her return. Would they beat her, welcome her, or shun her? As hard as she tried, the thoughts were going to invade her consciousness, and she had learned that it was better to wrestle with a problem rather than run from it.

_That's a good girl. Turned 21 two months ago and acting all adult-y already._

It didn't mean that'd she would always win the battle. Sometimes, losing was all that you could do. She was tired of putting up the tough front. It was an act, always had been. She knew it, and she suspected that it wasn't as good and act as she thought it was, which meant a lot more people knew it as well. Still, now that she had done away with the tough girl front, it didn't mean that she was all vulnerable and sensitive.

No, the act had been replaced with a harsh reality. She was tough, and her emotions were well-shielded from attack and abuse. There was no one who had managed to pierce her protection in three years, and no one who had managed to get a backstage pass. It was highly unlikely that the fact would change in Sunnydale, or in L.A.

She briefly considered visiting Angel, or giving him a call.

_Nah, wouldn't know what to say._

Idea discarded, she tried to settle in and get some shuteye. She had only managed some two hours of fitful, uncomfortable sleep, blackouts in sewer notwithstanding. Dex lay in a cage in cargo, something she was very unhappy with. But regulations were regulations, and the Council only had so much pull. They didn't approve of her having a pet anyway.

She sighed and took out a dog-eared book from her bag. Reading was something she did more these days, what with the only free time she had being on flights to different parts of the world. The book was one she had read many times over – Alexander Dumas' _Count of Monte Cristo_. It was an interesting read, and she thumbed through several pages of the book, skipping to the parts that she liked the most.

It was interesting to her to see how much a man could change in such a short time. She wondered if the change in her had been an abrupt one, or a gradual process.

_Maybe you haven't changed at all. Maybe you just think you have._

She smirked at that and went back to reading.

* * *

Sunnydale was as usual. There had been no apocalypses or major disasters in the past few years; no world-shaking events that threatened to disrupt the peace. The Sunnydale night was as quiet as it could ever get, if one ignored the somewhat regular sound of a vampire feeding and the blood-receptacles crying out in pain and denial.

If one's hearing was sharp enough (and it was), one could hear some demons partying and wreaking havoc in some factories, fooling around with hazardous materials that couldn't affect their physiologies. One might also hear the sound of a poor girl being abused, tortured and finally eaten by a family of hungry demons living deep down in the sewers.

One could also hear the sound of a group of friends talking to each other in the dead of the night, as they walked through the cemetery. These three friends knew exactly how dangerous Sunnydale nights – and Sunnydale cemeteries – could get, but they didn't seem to have a care in the world.

It wasn't surprising, considering that the one in the middle was a short, petite blonde called Buffy Summers – the Slayer to Sunnydale's underground population. She was probably the best Slayer the world had ever known. She was definitely held the record for stopping the most number of apocalypses. Five, if one was not wrong, in as many years.

Well, all Slayers must come to an end, and the line must be propagated. A new Slayer was an easy Slayer. One that had been doing the job – spectacularly well, one must admit – was simply going to be a problem for one's future plans.

One smiled in anticipation. One should have friends in many places, and one of the benefits if having such friends was the ability to collect favors from them. One gave the signal and six vampires jumped out at the three friends. Slayer or no Slayer, 6 vampires were still going to be a slight problem, especially if they knew how to work together.

And one had made sure of that fact.

One watched on as one vampire died, and another quickly after that. The Slayer's two friends were struggling to gain footing, to fight back. One frowned as the Slayer's vampire toady ran out from the darkness and joined the fray, grabbing one of the vampires and pulling it away from the Wicca. One sneered when that vampire died. One threw off his cloak and leapt off one's perch. It was time for one to join the fight.

One closed his eyes, and then one was many.

The Slayer would not be a bother to the Many's future plans.

Xander was trying his damn best to figure out what was going on, and possibly be of some use to this fight. Buffy had forbidden him to engage in hand-to-hand combat if he could help it, so he had been practicing hard with the crossbow. He had become a very good shot, if he was to be honest with himself. A regular William Tell, and all that jazz.

Not like it was any use when the first thing the vampire that jumped him did was to slap the crossbow out of his hands. Xander grimaced as he barely managed to dodge a clumsy swing from the vampire. He was lucky that way; the baddies that attacked him usually were the runts of the litter or the bottom of the proverbial barrel.

Take this vamp as an example. Xander wasn't the world's most agile or quickest man but he had somehow been able to avoid each and every one of the vampire's punches and kicks. Really, the vamp fought as if he was blind in one eye and required heavy prescription in the other.

Of course, he was getting tired, and one of the perks of undeath was a vastly superior stamina. Sooner or later he would slow down, get hit, get killed and _then_ get Buffy killed.

But of course, the Peroxide Wonder had to come running to the rescue. _Who invited him to this party?_

Xander mentally smacked himself on the head. This wasn't the time to gripe and be bitchy about dangerous, yet neutered, vampires. He saw, out of the corner of his eye as the vampire smacked him to the grass and dirt, Spike pulling a vamp off Willow and dusting it with one smooth motion. Buffy held her own against two more vamps, looking for openings to drive her stake home.

_Go help Buffy, Bleach-Boy. I can handle this one on my own._

Xander raised a boot and kicked the vampire in between the nuts. He rolled away, but the vampire must have been wearing a cup or something because he grabbed Xander's leg and tossed him ten feet through the air. Xander impacted hard against a tree, breath knocked out of him, tears popping into his eyes. His pain was rewarded by the sight of Spike kicking the other vampire in the belly, and staking him in the back as he was bent over.

Just like that, all the vamps were gone. Xander grabbed Willow's offered arm and pulled himself to his feet. "Much of the ouch," he groaned, grinning through the aching backbone.

"You guys ok?" Buffy jogged over, looking at Xander with concern.

"I'm good, Buff. Nothing another visit to the chiropractor won't fix," Xander replied, waving away the concern.

"You need to get that looked at soon," Willow said, frowning as she ran her hands down his back. Xander nodded, wincing.

"He'll be fine, Red. Not like he has much of a backbone to get bruised anyway," Spike's annoying British accent cut through the night air.

"It's good I don't have much of the ego either," Xander quipped, putting a hand over his heart. "It would be so bruised if I cared what you thought, Peroxide Kid,"

Spike smirked at him, obviously pretending to not care as Buffy walked over to him.

"Thanks for the help, Spike," Buffy said. "You weren't stalking me again, were you?" she added, looking at him suspiciously. Willow walked over to join Buffy, fixing Spike with a glare. Spike looked absolutely mortified.

"Yeah, I thought we told you to make with the staying away from Buffy," the redhead chipped in.

"God, no. I was just enjoying a stroll through my favorite part of town when I saw you lot tussling. Figured I'd help out, say hello, y'know, all that," Spike said, practically babbling. Xander snorted. As much as he didn't like the fact that Spike was _still_ in 'love' with Buffy, he had to laugh at his pathetic-ness.

All other conversation was cut off and all four of them were knocked off their feet by an incredibly powerful gust of wind. Buffy was up on her feet in an instant, looking around.

"That wasn't magic, Buffy!" Willow cried out, climbing to her feet. Xander frowned. If it wasn't magic then what in the world could have produced such a gust? He rolled to his feet and suddenly saw that they had been surrounded by many, many ugly, mean-looking demons (what other type were there?)

_Dumb question, Harris.

* * *

_

"Guys, stay close," Buffy ordered. Willow and Xander hurried to obey, Xander snatching his crossbow off the floor and holding it at the ready. "Any idea what they are?" Buffy asked.

"Lookin' for a bruisin'?" Xander said, trying to calm his nerves. This wasn't the kind of fight he was very adept at participating. More hassle than help. "Sorry, been watching too many oldies,"

"The Many is displeased with your interference in our plans, Slayer," the demons said, as one. Their voices were in tandem, a chorus of rasps that hurt their ears. Spike winced at the sound. "You will bother us no longer, you and all your lackeys,"

"I resent that!" Spike exclaimed, and was answered by a swift blow to the stomach. Just like that, the fight was joined. Xander felt himself buffeted by several blows, and was somewhat curious that the demons didn't seem to be able to punch any harder than the average human. Willow summoned a protective shield around her and Xander, rebuffing the demons and allowing him to take a quick breather.

"Away," she commanded, and several demons were pushed backwards, some thrown off their feet. Willow had been slowly using magic again, after recovering from her… problem. Strictly white, no black whatsoever. She used her spells sparingly, and only when needed, and had pretty much stopped experimenting. Xander looked at his oldest friend and surveyed the situation. If this fight didn't end soon, Willow might… relapse.

He raised his crossbow and launched off a bolt at a demon that was getting to its feet. The demon seemed to vibrate and the bolt passed through the air, missing the demon by inches. Xander frowned. He was sure he had a bead on it…

"Work on the aim, Xander!" Willow said, waving a hand and causing a bunch of roots from the nearby oak to seize and entangle several demons. Xander muttered a reply under his breath and fired at the trapped demons. His bolts hit home, embedding themselves into soft flesh at the heart, head and throat.

He was a very good shot.

Xander turned around and saw Spike and Buffy getting harassed by the demons. They weren't strong, or very tough, but they were incredibly fast – and there were a lot of them. Spike was kept off-balance by the numerous rabbit punches; punches that didn't hurt, but prevented him from getting his footing.

Buffy was suffering the same problem. She was getting dogpiled by the demons, her fists and feet unable to connect. Xander steeled himself and ran into the dogpile, with a shoulder tackle that would make a linebacker proud. One or two demons were knocked away, but that wasn't his intent. Xander reached into the middle of the chaotic melee and grabbed a certain Slayer's arm.

Buffy's hand wrapped itself painfully around his elbow and used his weight as leverage to force herself to her feet. The demons scattered, some were actually thrown into the air by the force of her movement. In a flash they had regrouped and came in for a second attack.

"Slow," Willow whispered, and slow the demons did. Buffy charged forward, a furious tempest of blows, everywhere at once. In the space of a few seconds, a whole bunch of demon bodies were laid out on the floor. Xander barely had time to reload his crossbow and fire a shot.

One of the demons backed off, speaking. Xander realized that all the demons were speaking, even the ones that were dead or unconscious. "Many seem to be unable to thwart your interference Slayer. It stands to reason that the Many must regroup,"

The remainder of the demons flowed away. The demon bodies on the floor began to dissolve and disappear. Xander watched in disbelief as the demons congealed and combined themselves into one form, a large, craggy-skinned demon. Spike staggered over, still somewhat dazed.

"Irritating buggers," he muttered.

"You may have been able to face the Many. But one is a far more formidable foe," the demon said, still sounding like a chorus of an untold number of demons.

"Why does it speak like that?" Buffy asked casually, as she dropped into a fighting stance.

"I don't even know what it is," Spike said, stepping beside Buffy. His posture seemed relaxed, but he was prepared for a fight. A proper fight this time, where he could actually exchange blows with something. Buffy nodded at Xander and Willow. They understood that unspoken command; they were to sit this one out, unless absolutely necessary.

Willow lowered her shields, a look of regret and relief crossing her face for the barest of moments. Xander moved to reload his crossbow, but found himself out of bolts. He swore under his breath and looked around for another suitable weapon. The demon looked at the four of them and grinned – or at least Xander thought it grinned. He was never very good at reading demonic expressions.

Arms began to sprout from the demon's body, two extra pairs. All six of its arms were suddenly armed with vicious-looking weapons. Buffy's eyes took on a worried look. An unarmed demon she could handle – but one with six hands and six blades? That was something she would be hard-pressed to do without a weapon of her own.

"Well that's just bloody unfair," Spike complained.

The demon grinned again. It charged forward. Spike and Buffy braced themselves for impact, both wishing they had some sort of a weapon.

A strange figure barreled into it, checking its forward progress and driving it to the floor. The demon crashed to the ground with a loud grunt, but it managed to keep its grip on its weapons. The newcomer straightened and shook out her long, dark hair.

Buffy's eyes widened in disbelief.

"Faith?"


	4. OneWhoIsMany

_Standard disclaimers apply. Joss Whedon owns everything, I'm just borrowing._

**Chapter 4: One-Who-Is-Many**

* * *

"You!" the demon shrieked, with a voice that sounded much too high pitched to come from something of its size. It clambered to its feet, all its grace and fluidity gone at the sight of the dark-haired Slayer. Backing off slightly, the demon held its weapons in a defensive posture and assessed the Slayer.

No weapons. Right arm in a cast, hidden under the jacket. Dog nowhere in sight, although that was a small comfort. That damned mutt could be anywhere.

"You're not supposed to be here! This is her turf!" it shrieked again, pointing a sword at the blonde Slayer's general direction. "There are a half-dozen other Hellmouths on this damned rock! Why couldn't you be there instead of here?"

The once-rogue Slayer kept her face impassive. "If you had been at another Hellmouth, I'd have been there to kick your ass, clown car," she said. The demon didn't know that her true purpose here was to hunt it down, but that would take a lot of wind out of her retort.

"Stop calling me that!" the demon yelled; pitch getting ever higher, its expression getting more frantic. It continued backpedaling, backing away from the Slayer. "One hates it when you do that!"

"Yeah, one needs to look where he's going," Faith said, in a conversational tone, jerking a chin at something behind the demon. Before the demon could turn around, it had tripped over a very large gray mongrel and toppled onto its back with the grace of an ancient redwood.

In a flash, the Slayer was on it, slapping two of its six weapons out of its grasps. Dex had his jaws clamped firmly on another wrist and the demon was trying its best to get rid of the dog, but with a Slayer on it chest, getting enough leverage to do that was going to be difficult. She punched it twice in the face with her unbroken arm. The demon shrieked into her face as loud as it could, and gathered up enough momentum to surge to its feet.

The Slayer hopped off the demon easily and kicked its knee. The demon avoided her foot easily, stepping to one side and moving forward, one of its swords spearing for the Slayer's chest. She moved aside with liquid grace and rapped the outstretched wrist with the back of her gloved hand. The sword fell from nerveless fingers, and then the Slayer was inside the reach of the demon's weapons, practically disabling them unless it managed to get some space. The Slayer's gloved fist was flying for its throat, just as her foot aimed to kick its knee.

The demon, however, had fought her before and knew her tricks. It dropped its remaining two weapons and enveloped her in a mighty six-armed bear hug that could crush the life out of a full-grown elephant. The Slayer grunted slightly as the demon squeezed her still mending ribs. One arm was pinned to her side – the broken one, thank God – and the other was bent at the elbow, trapped in between both their bodies. The Slayer wrapped her legs around its waist, but without any leverage, she wouldn't be able to break out of the clinch. Dex was biting at the demon's ankle, but it had reinforced the ankle with more of its scaly hide, rendering the tendon immune to the mongrel's teeth.

"Hey B? Some help would be nice!" she called out, voice strained. Buffy snapped out of her reverie and rushed forward, Spike at her side. Both of them snatched up the demon's discarded weapons and laid into the thing's exposed, unprotected back.

Well, at least they thought it was unprotected. Two more arms sprouted out of the demons spine and slapped the weapons away, preventing the blades from doing any harm. Buffy changed her tack and went for the joint right in between where the two back-arms emerged. The arms, unable to bend backwards, were likewise unable to stop the sword from biting deep into the demon's back.

The demon shrieked again and arched it back, although it didn't let go of the Slayer in its grasp. In fact, its grip only tightened. She gasped, the blood draining out of her face as she felt her broken ribs creak under the pressure. She was held too high to be able to headbutt the demon's face and her legs couldn't kick at any vital points. The demon had gotten her into a near-perfect hold.

Near-perfect. Her legs were still free.

The Slayer planted her feet on its thighs and stamped with all the force she could muster. She stamped once, twice, three times, and finally felt something give. Buffy's sword found flesh once more, just as Spike's axe hewed into the demon's knee. The demon screeched one last time before finally going down, releasing the brunette from its hold.

As her sister-Slayer rolled away, Buffy raised the sword and plunged the blade into the demon's throat. The demon's screech died with a horrible, bubbling croak and it twitched spastically as the life fled its body.

The brunette Slayer sat up, but was almost brought back down by her over-enthusiastic dog licking at her face. "Whoa, Dex. Down boy," she gasped, fending off the mongrel. Dex abruptly backed off, growling. The Slayer looked up to see Buffy leveling the sword at her face.

"Hello, Faith,"

"Hey, B. Nice to see you still kicking," Faith said.

"Yeah, can't say the same for some of us,"

Faith shrugged. "Whatever, B. Not here for pleasure,"

She made to get to her feet, but Buffy's sword pricked her throat. "Stay," the blonde practically growled. "And call off your dog,"

Faith grinned. "You've been working on that voice, B? Gotta say, it sounds pretty fearsome," she said. There was no trace of fear or hostility in her voice, or her expression. Buffy narrowed her eyes and made a subtle motion with her hand. Behind her, Willow began murmuring a spell and Xander raised his crossbow. Faith heard a rustle behind her and saw the blonde vampire, cradling the axe in his arms, cigarette in mouth. She frowned.

"Seriously, B. I ain't here to fight. Not you, anyways,"

"And we're supposed to believe you, why?" Xander asked, eyes narrowed. "You haven't exactly been our best friend,"

"Sorry to say, Slayer. But dark-haired and glowering here is pretty much telling you the truth," Spike, of all people, came to her defense. Buffy looked up at the vampire, eyes registering a note of surprise. He shrugged. "Ask around. She's been building a rep for the past 2 years. Hell, most demons figure Sunnydale to be safer than any place she's in,"

"So what? You come here all reformed and expecting forgiveness?" Buffy asked, a hint of sarcasm in her voice. Faith lowered her eyes, and she looked tired, weary even.

"Do I want your forgiveness? I guess so," she said, with a shrug. "Do I expect it?" she chuckled. "Hell, B. I ain't that stupid. Boytoy had a point. I wasn't exactly bosom buddies with any of you when we last met,"

Xander flinched when Faith called him Boytoy.

"But believe me when I say this, B. I wouldn't be here unless I absolutely had to. And I have to," Faith pulled at her dog's scruff, and he obediently backed down, lying down by her side, head on her lap. "So how about it, B? Truce? Or do we make like the movies and end this all with a fight to the finish?"

Buffy studied her sister Slayer for a long time. Finally, she raised the sword and stepped back.

"Fine. Let's talk,"

They remained in the cemetery. Xander and Willow stood a distance away from Faith, Buffy keeping her sword at the ready. The other Slayer retained her sitting position, but was leaning against a handy tombstone, her breathing somewhat labored. Spike was leaning against another tombstone, smoking and smirking.

_This__ one __certainly __knows __how __to __shake __things __up. _He mused to himself.

"I've been on the straight and narrow for the past two years. Y'know, trying to make amends," Faith was saying. "Council gives me info; I run around the world and kill things,"

"And they asked you to come here?" Willow asked. She had remained silent for most of the conversation, simply because she couldn't trust her voice to not crack. When she had first saw the rogue Slayer, her first instinct was to blast her down with fire, quickly followed by the urge to run away as fast as possible. She harbored a lot of resentment and anger for Faith, mostly because of what she had done to Xander and Buffy.

But the main emotion associated with the brunette was fear.

And Willow knew why she feared the younger Slayer. It wasn't that Faith was stronger, faster and tougher. Willow knew she could take on the Slayer and defeat her, permanently if she had to. But doing so would require her to tap into black magic again, and that was something Willow did not want to touch – not for a very long time. Willow didn't fear the Slayer. She feared what the Slayer might force her to do.

Faith nodded in reply to the Wicca's question. "There's a prophecy, apparently. Something about 'new world order' and 'enslavement of all humanity'. Guy involved is on his way down here, I think,"

"Guy? You've met him before?" Buffy asked. Faith smiled softly as she replied.

"Met? Yeah, guess you could say that. Did this to me,"

She pulled back her sleeve, revealing the cast. Buffy's eyes widened, as did Spike's.

"What the hell did he use? A wrecking ball?" Spike blurted out, words leaving his mouth without thinking. Faith turned to him and gave him a strange look.

"No, something worse," she said, her voice so low it was barely audible. "He used his bare hands,"

The silence was deafening.

And then, all of a sudden, everyone was talking all at once.

"That's impossible!"

"Nothing can break a Slayer's bones! Nothing!"

"Bloody good mess we've landed ourselves into,"

"His bare hands?"

Faith closed her eyes and waited for the noise to settle. Dex laid a sympathetic paw on her hand. "He laid me out for two days. Spent them unconscious in a sewer," she said, making everyone's eyes snap to her. "This guy is dangerous, B," she continued, her eyes fixing onto Buffy's with an intense stare. "If he's coming here, you'll need all the help you can get,"

"What makes you so sure he's coming here?" Buffy was finding it hard to tear her gaze away from Faith's.

"Prophecy mentioned the first Hellmouth. Stands to reason he'll come here if he wants to fulfill it, wouldn't he?"

"How do we know that's what he wants to do, then?" Spike asked. Faith shrugged.

"Can't be certain. But I ain't taking any chances,"

Buffy frowned. "Why do you care so much?"

Faith gave a wry smile. "I dunno," she said. "And I guess if he kills you, then that means I won't have any backup when I'm taking him on. And we've all seen what happens when I try taking him on alone,"

Silence followed her words.

Buffy studied the other Slayer intently. She looked different; older, tired, less carefree. Her face remained impassive, her emotions as shielded as ever. She had lost that glint in her eye that made her Faith, the lust for life, for excitement and adrenaline. Buffy's heart was suddenly struck by sympathy – Faith was going through the motions, just like Buffy herself had, a few years ago.

Buffy nodded, and extended a hand. "Welcome back,"

* * *

"You knew she was out of prison?"

Giles gave his Slayer a calm stare. It was a stare that had made Master vampires and 600 pound demons back off, and it was definitely working on a 120 pound petite blonde, Slayer or no Slayer.

"Yes. The Council called me and informed me of her release,"

"And you never told me?" Buffy continued, arms folded across her chest.

"You never asked," Giles replied calmly. Buffy opened her mouth to continue, but Giles' silenced her with an upraised hand. "You had a lot on your mind at the point in time, and I never felt that it was important enough,"

"Not important enough? Giles, she tried to kill me! And you! And a whole lot of other people!"

"Didn't Spike try to do the same as well?" Giles said, jerking a chin at the bleached blonde vampire. Spike looked indignant.

"Hey, leave me outta this,"

Buffy whirled around to face the vampire. "And you! You knew she was out as well! And roaming around the world for the better part of two years! Did it not occur to you to tell me?"

"I figured that if she wasn't gonna get her cute little butt down here, then it wouldn't be bothering us none," Spike drawled, winking at the mention of Faith's behind. Giles frowned in disapproval. "Lighten up, you tosser," Spike smirked at the Watcher. Giles' frown deepened.

Buffy sighed aloud in exasperation. Neither of them was paying attention!

"Buffy, the Council told me that Faith was carrying out her duties as Slayer remarkably well,"

"Better than you have," Spike interrupted, ignoring Buffy's glare.

"And she had expressed a reluctance to visit Sunnydale," Giles forged on adamantly. "As long as she's not straying to her old ways, I don't see why she would be that big an issue,"

Buffy's wind disappeared, beaten by the power of Giles' logic. "Fine. I'll bite. Let's go talk to her and find out more about this prophecy,"

Giles, Spike and Buffy were in the training room of the Magic Box, discussing Faith's return to Sunnydale. They walked back to the main room and saw Faith casually leaning against the counter, checking something on her PDA. Xander and Willow were glaring daggers at the brunette, but Faith seemed oblivious to them. Dex was entertaining himself by sniffing Faith's boots.

"Well, Faith," Giles said, looking at Dex disapprovingly. He would have to clean up the dog fur later. "Tell us more about this prophecy,"

Faith looked up from the PDA and rattled off a string of book names and page numbers. Giles was taken aback momentarily and everyone's eyes widened. "The prophecy can be found in those books. You have them?" she finished. Giles nodded dumbly.

"Well, as a matter of fact, I do," he said. "But it's found in all of those volumes?" his voice held a note of disbelief.

"Yup. The entire thing, not references either,"

"Interesting,"

"What's so interesting?" Buffy asked.

"Well, prophecies usually aren't recorded in more than one text or volume. To have the same prophecy recorded in 16 different texts, spanning 15 centuries…" Giles' voice trailed off lost in thought.

"There are minor differences based on language and stuff. But the gist remains the same," Faith added. Willow looked at her.

"When did you become knowledge chick all of a sudden?"

Faith gave a wry smile, and waved her PDA. "Cliff notes. Council guy does the research, sends me the skinny. Makes my life a lot easier,"

Buffy turned to look at her Watcher. "Why don't you do that for me?"

Giles gave her a long-suffering look and refused to answer.

"Why don't you explain it to us then?" Spike suggested. Faith gave the vampire an inscrutable look and turned to Buffy. Buffy nodded slightly and Faith shrugged.

"Ok, there's something a pure demon and a war that decides the fate of the world. Either way, so long as someone wins, a new world order will arise, changing the world forever," Faith said, reading from her PDA. There was a silence, as if the rest were waiting for more. Faith looked up at them.

"That's it,"

"That's it?" Xander echoed. "That's all the prophecy's about?"

"Yep,"

"Giles?" Xander asked. The Watcher turned to look at him. "Why is her prophecy so much easier to understand than the ones you read out to Buffy?"

Giles studied Xander and the younger Slayer and wisely decided not to answer the question. Spike, however, didn't have as much tact. Or maybe he didn't care.

"That's cos both of you are dumb as posts," he said with a chuckle. "Well, dumber than Buffy at least,"

"Hey!" two people said in unison. Buffy and Xander. Faith just looked at the vampire and shrugged one shoulder, smiling slightly.

"Well, the problem is that we don't know about the pure demon. Or what this war is about. Or what happens if anyone wins," Faith said. "Council guy is getting on that, he's gonna get back to me when he gets more,"

"Well, we should be getting on research then," Giles said. There was a collective groan. Giles fixed them all a flat stare. "Well, Faith has already narrowed down the volumes we have to read. It shouldn't take too long, what with the seven of us here,"

"Six," Faith said, pocketing her PDA. "I've got something to handle,"

"Like what?" Xander asked, suspiciously.

"Oh, Slayer stuff," Faith replied vaguely. "Y'know. Demons, vampires, killing them. That sorta stuff. You wouldn't be interested,"

"Hell I ain't. You just got here. What could have gotten your attention and missed Buffy's?" Xander said. He paused for a while. "Besides the prophecy that is," he amended.

Faith sighed. "Demon in cemetery. Gonna hunt him down, run him outta town,"

"Wait. We killed that one," Buffy pointed out.

Faith shrugged. "He makes copies of himself. You saw his clown car act?"

"Uhm… yeah," Buffy replied.

"He keeps one copy stashed away somewhere, just in case he gets killed," Spike said. "I've bumped into him before,"

"Wait," Giles said. "You fought the One-Who-Is-Many?"

"Who?" Buffy asked, as Faith said, "Yeah,"

Buffy looked at Faith, giving her a strange look. "Chill, Giles. He's harmless," Faith added. "I've locked horns with him before. Dude keeps trying to harness Hellmouths and getting his ass-kicked. Would figure he'd have learned something by now,"

"Locked horns?" Spike muttered to himself.

"Anyway, I'm gonna go sniff him out; get him away from this Hellmouth. Life is a lot easier without him around to bother us," Faith said, making for the door.

"You don't really think we'll let you go alone, do you?" Xander said.

"I'll go with," Spike said, stepping forward.

"Yeah, right! The psycho Slayer and the vampire! I'll sleep comfortably tonight!"

"Xander," Giles said. "Let them go. Faith has dealt with One-Who-Is-Many before. I trust she'll be as effective now as she was before,"

Faith grinned at the Watcher. "Thanks for the vote of confidence, Giles,"

Xander's mouth gaped as Faith and Spike stepped out the door. He turned to Buffy, who shrugged. "I'm willing to trust her," she said, making Xander's mouth gape even wider. She shrugged. "Besides, I'm pretty sure the Council has a few eyes on her,"

Xander's mouth closed as he realized what the blonde Slayer was getting at. He tapped his nose and looked at Giles. "You people are sneaky,"

Giles gave him an offended look.


	5. Dark, Seriously Ancient, Evil Magic

_Standard disclaimers apply. Or, if you're fool enough to believe I own this._

**Chapter 5: Dark, Seriously Ancient, Evil Magic**

* * *

"You have any idea where to start, love?"

Faith glanced back at the blonde vampire but otherwise paid him no heed. Kneeling down by her dog, she put something in front of his nose and muttered something into his ear. Dex sniffed the item for a while then started padding down the road.

"You have a trained bloodhound? Nifty,"

Faith thrust her hands into her jacket and started to calmly stroll along after Dex.

"Not one for conversation, are you? Well, a lot of folks say I talk enough for three people. Sometimes I tend to agree and a lot of people I meet think the same,"

Faith continued to ignore the vampire, in fact kept walking as if oblivious to his chatter.

"You realize I'm going to keep talking until you say something, right? Even if it is to grab me by the throat and threaten to shut me up permanently,"

The dark-haired Slayer resolutely kept her eyes on the dog and her mouth shut.

"Hah, you're tryin' to play tough cookie. I'll have you know, love, I'm very good at breaking tough cookies and eating them. They taste really good on the inside, beyond that tough, unbreakable exterior,"

He was walking next to her now and could smell the hotel shampoo she had used, and the smell of graveyard dirt. He leered at her. "I wonder how you'll taste like, love, once that shell of yours is shattered,"

He leaned in to sniff her neck, when all of a sudden she had his nose in a vice grip and was flipping him onto his back. He landed with a loud 'oof' and if he'd been able to breathe, all the air would have been knocked out of his lungs. He scrambled to his feet, but the Slayer was already walking on.

"I love myself a challenge," Spike laughed and hustled to catch up.

* * *

Nearly 30 minutes of incessant chatter, occasional judo flips and punches in the nose later, Faith and Spike arrived at the scene of the crime. Dex crouched obediently in front of a half-closed warehouse door, impatiently pawing at the ground.

Faith scanned round the area, eyes adjusting quickly to the dim light. As Spike crept cautiously into the warehouse, Faith went over to a pile of scrap material and fished around until she retrieved a piece of rebar and a steel barrel lid. Spike eyed her new acquisitions.

"Can't you get yourself proper weapons, love?" he muttered, though his voice still reached her enhanced senses. Faith smirked at him; the first reaction he'd gotten that hadn't involved bodily harm.

"Demon thinks he's a hotshot weapon smith. Only uses the weapons he's made, anything else is a piece of junk," Faith whispered. "The last time I bashed his head in with a crowbar he got so offended. Figured I give him a repeat performance,"

Spike laughed softly. "I knew there was some fire underneath that glower of yours, Slayer. C'mon, let's go kill ourselves a demon,"

"NO!"

Both of them whirled around at the high-pitched shriek.

"NO NO NO NO!"

"That him?" Spike raised an eyebrow.

"Sounds like him,"

"Please no! I'll leave, don't kill me!" the shrieking continued. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I won't do it again, I promise!"

Spike looked at the dark-haired Slayer appreciatively. "You really have him whipped, don't ya?"

Faith shook her head angrily. "He's not talking to us," she hissed through clenched teeth. Spike opened his mouth but closed it when she brushed past him and crept into the darkened warehouse. Shrugging, he followed.

She stopped abruptly behind a stack of crates. She signaled for Spike to make his way to the other side of the warehouse and gave a 'stay' motion to Dex. The dog immediately laid his head on his paws and looked at Faith with worried eyes. He recognized the scent in the warehouse. Spike nodded, sensing the tension in the air. His eyes flicked to Faith's broken arm and their eyes met for an instant. Without another word, the vampire melted into the shadows.

Faith clambered up the stack of crates noiselessly, reaching a walkway about 15 feet from the ground. She slinked forward, making sure her shadow wouldn't project across the warehouse floor. The One-Who-Is-Many was lying on the ground, crumpled and twitching. The man from the sewers was standing over The One-Who-Is-Many, like a vengeful dark angel of a kind.

Faith could see his jaw clenching, a vein twitching in his neck. He was furious. And it didn't seem to have had great consequences for The One-Who-Is-Many. Faith realized with a start that The One-Who-Is-Many was missing a leg – its right leg was not there, from the knee down. She scanned the area and saw the limb lying a few feet away, half-buried in the shadows, still quivering.

"I told you," the man was saying. "I _warned_ you,"

He reached down and grabbed The One-Who-Is-Many by its throat and effortlessly hoisted it up into the air. "But you refused to listen. Refused to accept my authority,"

His hand tightened and The One-Who-Is-Many began to choke. Its hands clawed at the inexorable pressure on its windpipe, its remaining leg kicking uselessly in the empty air. "The authority that is my divine birthright. Why do you ignore me?"

The last was a frustrated cry and the man's hand tore through The One-Who-Is-Many's throat. The body collapsed through the floor, smoke rising from the ragged hole that was once its neck. The man looked down at his bloodied hand and sighed heavily. "It is not good to ignore me,"

The man stood there for a few minutes, until his breathing returned to normal. He lifted his head and took a deep, nearly gasping, breath through his nose. "Fee, fi, fo, fum," he intoned dramatically, looking in the direction of where Spike was supposed to be.

I smell the blood of an Englishman.

Faith could see the smirk on the man's face and her grip on her makeshift weapons tightened so greatly the metal creaked. The man turned away from Spike's direction and looked in _hers_.

"Not tonight, Slayer. I would so love to kill you tonight, but everything has its proper time and place,"

He turned and began walking imperiously into the shadows.

And abruptly disappeared.

Faith waited a few tense minutes. Finally satisfied that the man was gone, she let out a breath she didn't know she had been holding and slumped against the wall.

"That was intense,"

Faith glanced at the blonde vampire and nodded somberly.

"He stinks of magic," Spike muttered in a tone of complaint. "Dark, seriously ancient, evil magic. The kind that's mostly forgotten by mankind and spoken about by demonkind in hushed, frightened voices,"

"Mostly?"

Faith nearly winced at the fact that her voice nearly cracked. Her latest encounter with the man was affecting her more than she cared to admit. Jonathan had better come through with his information soon.

"It's the kind of magic that created your type, love," Spike admitted, softly. "But it's more focused, more intense, like…"

"Shining sunlight through a magnifying glass?" she finished. Spike shrugged.

"Take your word for it,"

She nodded, with as much resolution as she could muster under the circumstances. It was rare that she found herself feeling this way (so terribly afraid). It was even rarer that she felt hopelessly outmatched and outgunned. She'd always figured it'd be the way she would go down, fighting hopeless odds, taking down more than her fair share of the bad guys with each dying breath. And she had been okay with that.

But having _felt_ the possibility of that future come closer to reality, Faith realized that it was a future she did not want for herself.

Face it, nobody wants to die.

But sometimes, you just do.

* * *

It was past midnight, but the lights were still on and the people were still busy. Books were passed around and flipped through, coffee was refilled, cold spaghetti was reheated and shoved into tired mouths.

Dawn yawned a huge yawn, her third one of the hour. "Slayers keep sucky hours," she mumbled to no one in particular. Buffy grinned fondly at her sister and brushed a hand over the smooth brown hair.

"Go sleep," she ordered. Dawn looked about to protest, but the blonde Slayer reaffirmed her words with a slight push and a firm set to her jaw. The younger Summers shrugged, yawned again and trudged into the back room.

Xander looked blearily up at the retreating form of the young girl and sniffed in mock superiority. "Youths these days, no energy, no stamina, no…"

He cut off abruptly as he pretended to spontanouesly fall asleep. Willow giggled and Buffy awarded him an indulgent smile. "But no jokes, gals. I am getting pretty beat," he confessed, looking at the rapidly emptying coffee pot. "And I've got work tomorrow,"

Giles nodded in agreement. "I think it would best that we all turn in for the night. We have most of the information we need and some sleep would do us a world of good,"

There was a chorus of agreements from around the table. But even as they shut the heavy tomes and got up from the table, the front door swung open and in walked a very serious looking pair.

"Faith, Spike," Giles said, keeping his voice neutral, despite the worry that threatened to pour out that the sight of their expressions. "Is everything well?"

Spike grunted and made his way to his corner, leaving Faith to explain. The brunette looked confused for a moment, and just a bit lost. With a heavy sigh, she found a seat and slumped tiredly into it. "No, G, I don't think everything is well,"

Everyone looked at her expectantly. Faith had her eyes closed and she looked exhausted. She _was_ exhausted. "He's here, Watcher," Spike finished for her, finally breaking the tense silence. His eyes flicked to Faith's broken arm. Understanding dawned across everyone's face and Xander paled noticeably.

"Do we have any idea who he is? Or what he wants?"

Heads swiveled to look at the older Slayer. Faith shrugged.

"Info hasn't been completely clear on that. I think he might be connected with…" Faith trailed off, not needing to finish her sentence.

"Well, if he is involved in the impending events, then we must assume that he is one of the champions mentioned in the prophecies," Giles mused, more to himself than anyone else. "Some idea on the manner of being he is would be useful?"

He looked at the leather-clad pair. Spike darkened and growled softly. Faith suppressed a shudder. "He's human," she said. "Magic-bound, but ultimately human,"

"Well, that's hopeful, right?" Xander chipped in, carefully not looking at the woman who had once tried to kill him. "If it's just magic we could suppress it, remove it and make him a normal guy again,"

"First we'd have to know what kind of spell it was. A broad-spectrum dispel won't be very effective so we'll need something more focused," Willow replied, face pensive, deep in thought.

"Vampire says it's the kind of stuff that makes us tick," Faith said, waving a hand in the general direction of Buffy and herself. "But with more power, more…"

She trailed off again, unable to find the words. Giles nodded firmly. "I think that's enough for now. We should all get some rest, and continue this tomorrow,"

There was a slight tension in the air, as everyone made their way home, or to makeshift beds. Giles looked at the dark-haired Slayer, still slouched in a hard wooden chair. It had to be an uncomfortable position, but she didn't seem to care.

He cleared his throat. If it got her attention, she didn't show it. "Faith," he started, unsure of how to continue. "If you need a place…"

She stopped him with an upraised hand. "I'm ok G," she said and refused to elaborate. They stood in the awkward silence for a while more and then Giles nodded and walked away. After a few minutes, Faith got up and left the shop.

Spike followed.


	6. Dreams

_Kind of a short chapter, but I'm a bit dry right now. Too much energy being used up elsewhere. Next chapter will be in a few days, I promise._

* * *

**Chapter 6: Dreams**

"What is it, vamp?"

The bleached blonde vampire had been following her for the past fifteen minutes, keeping silent, yet annoyingly present. Faith had been ignoring him, but Dex was getting fidgety and it was making her tense.

From behind her, she heard the leather of his duster creak as he shrugged. "I'm not quite sure, myself,"

"Then go home,"

He didn't though. Kept following her around as she walked down the darkened Sunnydale streets, observing her, studying her. It got on her nerves, this damned leech that Buffy kept around for God-knows-what reason and the same unfathomable reason was tailing her like a pathetic mutt.

_No offense, boy._

"Y'know, from what I've heard of the Slayer, she was fearless. Unstoppable, a force of nature. The most fearsome, dangerous thing to walk the earth on any number of limbs,"

The sudden presence of his voice pulled her out of her thoughts. She unconsciously stiffened, knowing what he was going to say next.

"B's the Slayer, not me,"

The same creak of leather. "If you say so, love,"

_Stop calling me that._

"It's alright to be afraid, y'know. Everyone's gotta be afraid of something,"

_Don't you ever shut up?_

Faith kept her head down, clenched her fists in her jacket pockets and adamantly walked on. They were just words, they meant nothing. People talked and talked and talked, but it the end, it was nothing but vibrations on the air. The only thing that truly mattered was the hunt, the kill, the impact of flesh upon flesh.

"And then comes all that dross about facing your fears and overcoming 'em. They probably never thought what would've happened if confronting your fears might bloody well get you kil- _akkh_!"

Spike's British drawl was cut off by Faith's forearm slamming into his windpipe. The Slayer was fast, faster even than Angelus or Buffy and she moved with a sense of purpose and drive he rarely found in humans.

Spike's left foot dropped backwards and bent, slowing his fall. Faith had one hand on his shoulder, another pressing down on his neck. The vampire rolled with the momentum, grabbed Faith's arm with both hands and flung her over him.

She released as soon as she felt the shift in Spike's posture and easily twisted herself to land on her feet. Even as her feet touched the ground she was moving forward. Her fist swung for Spike's cheek, but it was a feint. As Spike raised an arm to block the punch, she opened her fist and grabbed his sleeve instead and pulled it out wide.

Spike's eyes widened in shock and then Faith's heel slammed into the side of his knee and the limb crumpled. Her free hand grabbed him by the collar as he began to fall and she picked him up and slammed him against the wall. They were of similar height but Spike's feet were left dangling.

Faith was breathing hard, but it wasn't from the exertion. Amidst the pain, Spike let out a vicious grin. "You love it, don't ya?"

She slammed him against the wall again and the world spun for a second as his head bounced off the brick. "The fight's the only thing that keeps you alive. Keeps you going,"

_Shut up._

"Everything else doesn't matter. You might as well be dead if it weren't for the fight,"

_**SHUT UP!**_

"But instead of fighting, you're cowering like a little girl in the shadows, hiding from her daddy that beats her cos she's afraid to get hurt,"

Spike admirably kept his voice steady despite the fact that Faith was repeatedly throwing him against the wall, causing fine cracks to appear.

"You can't be afraid to get hurt, Slayer,"

Faith stopped. Spike slid to the floor as she took a few shaky steps back, trying to steady her breathing.

"You can't be afraid to die,"

She turned and walked away, using all her willpower to not flee. Spike looked out through his one non-swollen eye and saw the mongrel looking at him, studying him with disturbing intelligence. Then it turned around and padded noiselessly after its mistress.

Spike crawled into the shade of an alleyway, cursing his ability to get pummeled by Slayers. "I gotta stop with the two-penny Dr. Phil impression," he muttered as he sank into a dreamless slumber.

* * *

_Below her she saw the many shades of gray, gray that blended into purest white, gray that darkened into the deepest black. The gray forged on resolutely forward, flowing over, around or blasting through all obstacles in its way. The gray was persistent, the gray never gave up._

_She smiled. She was fond of the gray, despite its mistaken belief in its way. When soaring upwards, all obstacles fell apart before her, ceasing to exist, overcome by her sheer presence. _

_Below her, below the gray, she saw the night plunging downwards. She hated the night._

_The night was a perversion of her way, a mockery._

_The night engulfed obstacles and consumed them, leaving empty shells behind._

_She hated the night._

* * *

Buffy walked into the kitchen, stretching languorously. Willow was already there, with a glass of orange juice, poring over yet another ancient tome.

"Good morning!"

"God, you are _way_ too cheery," Buffy groaned, rooting around in the fridge for milk.

Willow raised an eyebrow. "Bad night?"

The blonde shrugged and fell boneless into a chair. "Nah, just kinda busy up here," she tapped her head.

"Slayer dreams?"

Said Slayer shrugged and shook her head, then shrugged again. "Don't think so. They don't have that… doom and gloom feel Slayer dreams usually come with. Just this really nice sensation of flying,"

"Flying?"

"Flying,"

"Wow. That's kinda cool,"

"Not really. It's kinda tiring," Buffy grimaced. "I'm hungry," she commented offhandedly and got up to look for some cereal to go with her milk.

"Well, is it like you flying, or do you have wings or something?"

"I'm not sure really. It fades away too fast," Buffy frowned as she tried to recall. She shrugged again. "Doesn't matter. Just a dream,"

"Well, usually flying dreams mean something," Willow said, a focused look coming into her eyes. "Like, psychologically, you know?"

"Ugh, no Psych 101 at 9 in the morning, Wills, please. I'm not awake enough for that,"

Willow shrugged, gave Buffy a 'this-is-so-not-over' look and returned to her book. There were a few minutes of silence when a small smile spread over Willow's face.

"So," said the redhead with an innocent sounding tone. "What do you think about Faith being back and all?"

Buffy groaned and flicked a piece of cereal at her best friend.


	7. Ribs

_A short chapter, to tide you faithful (see what I did there?) readers over. I lost most of my original notes for this story and putting it back together is getting to be harder than I thought. Anyway, read and review. Or don't. shrugs_

**Chapter 7: Ribs**

* * *

There were six of them, and only one of her.

They surrounded her in a rough circle, gnashing fangs and clenched fists, practically foaming at the mouth. They knew of her, of her reputation and were eagerly anticipating the glory they could achieve by taking her down.

"The Slayer," one of them crooned in a gravelly voice.

"The _other_ Slayer," another corrected.

"Dead Slayer," said yet another.

What was it about Sunnydale that gave demons such confidence in their abilities? Anywhere else and they'd be trying to run with suddenly damp trousers. But in _this_ Hellmouth, you had all manner of creatures of the night who thought they were the proverbial shit.

She stayed silent, stake held loose in one hand. They were slowly closing the circle, a step at a time. She waited, eyes half-closed, listening to the crinkle of the cemetery grass under their shoes and boots. The ground was slightly damp, the soil slippery; she would have to watch her step.

The lead vampire took a final step forward and then all hell broke loose.

* * *

Buffy watched her sister Slayer in action, eyebrows raised in grudging admiration. She had been out patrolling, wondering where Spike was, when she chanced upon Faith getting ganged up by a really dirty half-dozen. She contemplated stepping in and lending a hand when all of a sudden the dark-haired Slayer exploded into motion.

She held a stake in one hand, close to her chest. The other hand was a loose fist that aimed for eyes, throats and noses. She punched _hard_; the vamps would be reeling from the blows and give Faith all the time she needed to plunge the stake into their hearts.

Buffy watched her fighting style in the 30 or so seconds she was fighting. She blocked kicks with the side of her thighs and sometimes her shin, interrupted punches by going for exposed elbows and shoulders and struck at joints, eyes and nerve clusters. She stayed close to her target, disabling knees or ankles to hamper retreat and prevented them from getting space to breath.

She was a deadly fighter, focused and skilled. The vampires never stood a chance.

"You fight dirty,"

Faith shrugged without turning around, tucking her stake into her belt. "Whatever works, B. It all goes back to the first rule,"

"Don't die,"

"I'm trying my best," the dark-haired girl – woman – favored Buffy with a shadow of a smile.

"You said you were going to drop by during the day," Buffy said, stepping forward.

Another shrug. "Was tired,"

"You look tired,"

There was a sudden shift in her demeanor, a look of frustration marring her beautiful features. "What do you want, B? You wanna tell me I look like crap, that I'm running myself ragged? That I'm gonna die if I keep this up?"

Buffy almost took a step back at the sudden onslaught of Faith's fury. She didn't, though, because what she saw in the other Slayer was nothing compared to the intensity a few years past. Buffy shrugged.

"I guess I am,"

Faith blew out a heavy breath and ran a hand through her hair. "It's a shitty life, B," she admitted, in a rare moment of honesty. "But damn me if I don't love it,"

Buffy wished that Faith was angry again. Any kind of emotion was better than the almost dead look the brunette had in her eyes. She decided to change tack.

"The others are still researching. It's going slow,"

Faith nodded. "It usually does. Jon hasn't given me anything useful yet," At Buffy's raised eyebrow Faith elaborated. "Jonathan, Council guy. He's usually comes through with the info,"

"Decided to blow off steam?" she asked, indicating the remnants of the half-dozen vampires.

Faith looked mildly embarrassed. "Force of habit. Don't get territorial,"

"I won't, Scouts honor," Buffy gave her a half-smile, holding up two fingers in a sloppy salute. When Faith returned the smile with another half-hearted grin of her own, Buffy asked, "Ribs?"

The brunette hesitated, as if waiting for the other shoe to drop. Then she shrugged for the third time and said, "Sure, why not?"

The two Slayers walked, secure in the knowledge that they owned the night. Barely a minute later, Dex the mongrel padded out of the shadows and fell into pace beside his mistress.

* * *

"So, Spike,"

"Spike?"

"Yeah, Spike. What's his story?"

Buffy pondered the question, wondering just where to begin. "He's been hanging around for a long while, been about 3 years now,"

"Heard he was in love with you,"

The blonde raised an eyebrow. Faith raised a shoulder. "Word gets around,"

"We had a relationship, of sorts. Highly dysfunctional," Buffy continued. "Things came to a head; he disappeared for a while and then came back with a soul,"

Faith ignored whatever Buffy wasn't telling her; she doubted it was important. Licking sauce off her fingers, she leaned back and stretched sinuously. "Angel was pissed when he heard," she commented with a grin. "Thought Spike was trying to steal his Shanshu,"

"Turns out Spike was just trying to steal his girlfriend," Buffy replied wryly.

They lapsed into silence. The restaurant was empty but for the two of them and now that they'd both finished eating there was nothing to cover the discomfort between them.

"So, B," Faith began, just as Buffy opened her mouth. The blonde closed it with an audible 'clack' of teeth. "What brought this on?" she continued, gesturing at the empty plates on their table.

Buffy was silent. She looked hard into the brown eyes of the other Chosen One (probably the _actual_ Chosen One) and sighed. "Guess I had my eyes opened for me. And I needed to time to collect my thoughts,"

Faith smirked. Though it was a shadow of her old passion, Buffy was glad to see it on her face. "That must've been an exciting process,"

"You have _no_ idea,"

* * *

Earlier that day.

"C'mon, Buffy, you have to talk," Willow was practically whining.

"I don't see why I have to," the Slayer rebuked, in a rather petulant manner.

"Uhh, hello?" the sarcasm was thick enough to be used as a club. "Apocalypse looming? If you two don't get this unresolved tension outta the way, I don't foresee a happy outcome,"

Buffy sighed heavily, and opted to stir her cereal. Willow clamped a hand over her best friend's and gave her a stern look. "Don't make me go 'resolve face' on you,"

Buffy groaned again. "It's just… I don't know what to say!" she complained. "I'm not angry at her anymore; I'm not holding a grudge…"

"Then what's the problem?"

"…I feel sorry for her,"

Willow cocked her head, prompting Buffy to continue.

"She's living the life I've never wanted. Y'know, that lonely warrior thing the Watcher diaries are always babbling about," Buffy looked on the verge of tears. "She's got no friends, no home; she doesn't even have a Watcher,"

"Just a 'Council guy',"

Buffy nodded. "And I think… I think it's time I tried to fix things with her, y'know? She's trying so hard. I'm afraid she might be trying too hard,"

She looked at Willow, her eyes pleading for support. The Wicca reached out and squeezed the Slayer's hand gently. "You know I'm behind you every step of the way,"

Buffy's smile, though weak, was genuine.


	8. You Do The Homework, I'll Copy Yours

**Chapter 8: You Do The Homework, I'll Copy Yours.**

A week passed. The group settled into a roughly comfortable routine, relaxed enough to allow normal, everyday life to continue, tense enough to explode into action at a second's notice.

In the day, the Scoobies went to work, or researched the coming 'apocalypse'. Buffy would train, sometimes with Giles, sometimes by herself. At night, Buffy would patrol, usually with the others, with one of them taking turns to stay at the shop to continue research with Giles.

Faith stayed mostly away from them. She dropped by a few times, to pass Giles some information her Council contact had given her. She never stayed for longer than 15 minutes, just enough to greet everyone, get all the essential information out of the way and then say her farewells.

At night, she would patrol, but made certain to always take the sites Buffy wouldn't be in. She would call the blonde Slayer after every patrol to chat for a bit, but it never lasted long. It wasn't uncomfortable or awkward; they just didn't have _that_ much to talk about, not anymore.

They'd been away from each other for so long, they'd stopped being friends.

"Giles is getting frustrated," Buffy was saying, over the phone.

"Still can't get anything from his books?"

"He's convinced there's a worldwide conspiracy to keep him in the dark about this apocalypse," Buffy said with a smile. She could feel Faith's grin over the other end.

"He needs to lighten up,"

"He's English," Buffy retorted, as if it explained everything. Strangely enough, it sort of did.

There was a pause in the conversation, the typical sign that the call was over and it was time for them to call it quits. Just as Faith was about to say her goodbye and hang up, Buffy interrupted,

"It sucks, doesn't it?"

"Huh? I'm afraid that went a bit over my head, B,"

"Hah, like most everything everyone says to you, blockhead?" Buffy quipped.

"Hey, watch that pretty mouth of yours, _blonde_," Faith shot back, a laugh in her voice. Buffy hadn't heard that laugh in a while and was suddenly surprised by how much she missed it.

"I'll have you know that I'm a bottle blonde," she replied.

"So you're only artificially dumb?"

"No, I'm not dumb at all, not even artificially, and don't even start on that dye seeping into my brain thing, I've heard that one from Xander too many times it's almost like a short joke,"

"Take a breath, B,"

"I've learned to breathe through my nose and talk through my mouth, so I don't have to stop talking,"

"Hey, I learned to breathe through my nose too, but I wasn't using my mouth for talking…" Faith trailed off and Buffy could almost see her eyebrows waggling playfully.

"Well, since we're on the topic of sucking-"

"Nice B! That was _almost_ naughty!" Faith cut in.

"I was just saying that it sucked," Buffy forged on determinedly. "That the only thing we can talk about it our nighttime job. I mean, we used to be friends and all and now, we can barely spend 10 minutes on the phone without running into awkward pauses,"

"Look, B, I know I messed up whatever we might have had, but I don't see where-"

"Faith, people screw up. And I might have hated you 3 years ago, but dammit, I've grown up. So have you. I don't see why we can't move on and maybe, I don't know…"

There was a silence. Both Slayers knew what Buffy was getting at, but neither of them was quite brave enough to take the first step. Faith could feel the plastic of the cell phone cracking under her suddenly fierce grip. She wondered if B was nearly breaking her own phone as well.

"Look Faith, we just had a decent conversation tonight, one that wasn't at all forced," Buffy forged on, _needing_ the silence to end. "Maybe you could, I don't know-"

"I'll see you for patrol tomorrow?"

Buffy smiled at the tentative offer from the other girl. "I'd like that,"

* * *

"The actual fact is that these are _not_ prophecies," Giles was saying, as he paced restlessly in his little magic shop. "They're fairy tales, stories passed down and disguised as portents to Armageddon,"

"I find that hard to believe," his assistant shopkeeper replied. "Some of these people are much respected in the prophesying business," The ex-demoness blinked a few times, as a thought struck her. "I wonder if they charged money for telling prophecies,"

Xander grinned as his ex-girlfriend-now-good-friend-person. "Well, they've gotta pay for the printing and binding of all these books somehow. I mean, Giles has enough leather-bound tomes in here to fill a whole cow farm,"

"Reputations aside, my problem is that these so-called prophecies are far too similar to each other to be completely coincidental. Every prophet or seer has their own way of interpreting their visions and their belief system will affect the angle they preach," the Englishman continued, one end of this glasses resting against his lip.

"That means what, exactly?"

"What I'm trying to say, Xander, is that even if two seers get the same vision foretelling the end times at the exact same time, which has never happened before, they would not give out the same prophecy. The visions they receive are vague and confusing, at best, and everyone will interpret these visions differently, which leads to different prophecies,"

"So it's kinda like two different reviews of the same movie?" the younger man hazarded. Giles hesitated, and then shrugged in agreement.

"I suppose that's the best analogy you could come up with,"

Xander nodded, understanding beginning to dawn in his mind. "So you're all in a huff cos these prophets are copying each other's homework?"

"That just leaves the question of who actually did their homework. If we go back to the earliest recorded prophecy…" Giles trailed off as he rummaged through his pile of notes and books. The shop lapsed into silence as Giles went back to reading, Anya went back to rearranging stuff on shelves and Xander busied himself with calibrating his crossbow.

"Hah!" Giles exclaimed triumphantly, which almost made Xander drop his weapon. "The earliest prophecy, which was recorded sometime in 3000 B.C., has the exact same wording as this prophecy, which was recorded in 1376. That's taking into account the language and translation factors,"

"They were written in different languages but they're word-for-word identical?" Anya asked. "That's not quite possible,"

"It is actually very possible, if you used the correct language to translate into," Giles replied, a hint of pride in his voice. Xander half-expected him to jump out and run around the streets of Sunnydale yelling '_Eureka!'_ at the top of his lungs. "The first prophecy was written in Krshntare, which is a dead demonic language. The second is written in classical German. I used Hebrew as the common translation point and both prophecies wound up having used the same words,"

"Hebrew? Isn't that Jewish people language?"

"Yes. It is also widely believed to be the original language of man, before God cursed us all with different tongues," Giles explained. Xander nodded, not quite fully understanding, but knowing there was something important in all of that.

"Ok, so where exactly does that bring us?" Anya asked, reaching down for one of the books and flipping through it in a business-like manner.

"Well, now I have to find out whether all the prophecies can translate into Hebrew as well. Maybe find if there is another common language and see what I can draw from there," Giles mused, as he searched through his stacks.

Xander nodded enthusiastically. "Good luck with that,"

Giles looked up at the younger man. "Aren't you supposed to be patrolling with Buffy right now?"

"I dunno, she asked to meet here first," he replied with a shrug.

As if on cue, the bell on the shop's front door jingled. "We're closed, oh it's you!" Anya exclaimed. Xander craned his neck around and saw the dark-haired Slayer standing awkwardly at the door.

"Hey. B around?" she asked, her voice sounding especially husky.

"Umm, no, but she's supposed to meet me here for patrol," Xander replied, trying to not sound as bloody nervous as he felt.

Faith nodded shortly. "Same here,"

Giles looked up from his books again, an expression of mild surprise on his face. "You are patrolling together tonight?"

The Slayer shrugged, suddenly uncomfortable at all of the attention. "Yeah. Town's been pretty quite past few days; figure it wouldn't do any harm to concentrate our efforts,"

Giles studied the young woman's face for a long moment, than nodded in satisfaction. "That's good. Perhaps you should try to join Buffy for training next time,"

Now the surprise was on Faith's face but she quickly slammed down her 'bored-now' expression. "Maybe, I might. No promises," she answered, voice quiet.

The door jingled again and the blonde Slayer walked in, as if she hadn't a care in the world, oblivious to the tension evident in the shop. "Hey, gang's all here! Ready for patrol?"

"Born ready, B,"

"I've been listening to Giles talk for nearly two hours. I think I'm ready to get beat on by some vamps,"

Buffy grinned at the two brunettes, standing so awkwardly away from each other, trying to not make it so obvious. "Giles, Willow and Dawn will be here in an hour or so, once Dawn's done with her homework,"

"Excellent," Giles said by way of greeting and farewell, without even looking up from his book.

"I sincerely think that getting beat on by demons will be less painful than whatever _he's_ going to put them through tonight," Xander whispered conspiratorially.

Buffy giggled and Faith afforded him a small smile. On that note, the three of them went to make the Sunnydale streets a bit safer for its citizens.


	9. Training Day

_I pretend no ownership. Whedon's IP, not mine.  
_

**Chapter 9: Training Day**

* * *

Four piles of dust gently floated to the ground to join the six that were already there. Xander released a breath he didn't know he had been holding and lowered his crossbow. His fingers ached slightly from the reloading, but it was a pain he was used to. It was comforting and reminded him that he was alive.

He watched Buffy and Faith collect themselves, some fifteen feet ahead of him. They brushed dust out of their hair and clothes and shared a glance. Buffy was beaming and even Faith was letting loose with a small smile. Xander wasn't surprised that they were happy. They had a right to be.

The two Slayers had worked in beautiful harmony, never getting in each other's way, always watching the other's back. Faith's up-close infighting style kept the vampires off-balance, allowing for Buffy to cut loose with her more acrobatic tendencies. Xander had managed to shoot down two vampires before his breath just got taken away from the sheer spectacle of it all.

At one time, Faith had her foot hooked behind a vampire's ankle and she gave it a violent shove, sending it flying into the air. Buffy came soaring out of nowhere and jumped on top of the hapless vampire, planting both feet on its chest and using its airborne body as a springboard for her next jump. The vampire had crashed into the ground, stunned, and Buffy turned her jump into a perfect somersault. She landed nimbly behind two vampires and staked them both from behind without even looking at them.

In the meantime, Faith had another vampire in a headlock and had thrown her stake through another's heart. She was disarmed, momentarily, but it didn't mean that she was in anyway unarmed. A vampire charged at her, trying to take advantage. Faith stepped forward, driving her shoulder into the charging vampire's midsection, causing it to double over. The vampire Faith was holding onto was still trying to break free when Buffy flipped over its back, using its head for leverage. She staked him while she was upside down and in mid-air, and tossed her second stake in the air, just in front of Faith. The brunette had her arm wrapped around the charging vampire's chest and her now-free arm snaked up and behind the vampire's back, Buffy's stake somehow in her hand. The vampire had no idea what happened to it.

"Jesus Christ, girls," Xander was simply awed. "That was poetry in motion,"

Buffy looked at Faith again. "That was pretty good,"

To the blonde's delight, Faith's smile grew just a bit wider and she nodded in agreement.

"Pretty good? Pretty good? Kobe Bryant is pretty good at basketball! That was like watching a ballet! That was Hong Kong action level of choreography!" Xander protested.

"Harris, I may be good, but I sure ain't Chow Yun Fatt," Faith said, sounding amused. She didn't, however, sound modest. Xander thought she sounded a lot more like she was surprised.

"I don't know, Faith. That felt pretty good. Instinctual, familiar," Buffy said.

"Might be a Slayer thing,"

Buffy was silent for a moment and then she nodded. "Definitely a Slayer thing,"

Faith seemed satisfied with that answer.

* * *

The dull green numbers on the bedside clock flashed 1:13 in front of her blurred vision. She shifted slightly, attempting to untangle the sheets from between her legs and try to get them back in order so she could go back to hiding under them.

But then the thing that woke her up continued waking her up.

That goddamn knocking on the door. It was one in the afternoon for crying out loud – who the hell was coming to visit her at _this_ time of the day?

_I swear to God if it's some friggin' Jehovah's Witness askin' if I found Jesus, I'm gonna make him search for the Lord in his colon._

Faith snarled as she swept of the bed and stomped towards the hotel room door. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she realized that the knocking was gentle and polite, hesitant even. She heard the shuffling of feet and rustle of paper bags.

_No Bible thumping?_

She threw open the door and blinked when she saw a thoroughly red-faced Rupert Giles standing in front of her. "G?"

"Uhh, good afternoon, Faith," he said while fiercely studying the ceiling.

"Jesus H., Giles, I never expected to see you come knockin',"

"Well, yes, eh…" the British man trailed off, sounding more British than ever. He shuffled his feet, looked at her face for an instant, then decided to inspect the door jamb.

"Uh," Faith grunted noncommittally, walking away from the door. She left it open and gave him a strange 'come on in' type wave.

He remained standing resolutely at the door, eyes screwed shut. "Uh, Faith…" he began.

She turned, yawning and stretching, feeling her spine pop. "Sup?"

Giles coughed loudly into his fist and resisted the urge to slap himself with it. "Uh, would you mind putting on some clothes?"

* * *

"Sorry 'bout the eyeful, G," Faith said later, as they strolled out of the small hotel. "I live outta a suitcase, y'know how it gets,"

"Have you never had any visitors before?" he asked, truly curious.

Faith shrugged in that particular way of someone who's too embarrassed to talk. "I've not been much for the social interaction these past couple years," she admitted.

"I would have expected someone as outgoing as you would have had some form of company or other. Perhaps a nightcap or two?"

Faith quirked an eyebrow at the former Watcher. "Wow, time was you'd have blushed yourself to death before suggesting that a young girl was having a one-nighter," she said with a grin. "Guess the California weather warms even the stiff upper lip, huh?"

Giles smiled and raised a shoulder. "I guess being away from the home country has… loosened, shall we say, certain aspects of my personality,"

Faith barked out a decidedly unladylike laugh. "Well, mattress-bouncing aside, I just never made any acquaintances. No one who'd come knocking and asking me out to lunch," she paused, brow furrowed in thought. "Hell, I usually sleep through lunch and go straight for takeout before patrol,"

"Well, perhaps that can change?" Giles offered, waving the Slayer into a classy-looking bistro.

Once upon a time the Boston native would have hesitated at the idea of walking into an upscale restaurant, but now she walked in and took a seat without batting an eyelid.

"I dunno, man. I don't plan on stayin' forever, know?"

"Be that as it may, I am have come to the belief that you will be here for quite a while, yet," Giles replied casually. "The prophecy you came to warn us about – well, the portents seem to put the exact date at about 4 months from now,"

Faith shrugged. "Hey, nip it in the bud and all that," she said, with a snipping motion of her fingers. "I never understood why you guys waited till the last minute before beatin' on the bad guy,"

"Well, as Spike would say, we were never the brightest of the bunch," said the Watcher, with a rueful smile. His smile broadened as Faith chuckled at his joke.

The waitress came to take their order and Faith busied herself with an impromptu inspection of her nails. Giles was accustomed to silence and waited till the food arrived before clearing his throat again. "Xander came by the store earlier," he said, when Faith looked up.

"Oh?"

"He told me about last night's patrol. And the way Buffy and you worked together,"

"Did he now?"

"How much of it was real and how much of it was his usual bluster?"

Faith leaned back and chewed her burger thoughtfully. "I don't know, G. It- I- I've never worked that well with people before, but last night…"

She shrugged not knowing what to say or how to say it. "Me and B, we were in sync. I knew exactly what she wanted to do, and she sure as shit knew what I was gonna do,"

Giles nodded, prompting her to go on.

"It's like great sex, y'know? Your bodies moving together, you're reacting and meshing and…"

"Buffy will be training with me today. If you would join us, I would like to observe the two of you at work," Giles said. Faith raised a shoulder.

"Sure, why not?" she replied, trying to sound casual. Inside, her heart was racing in anticipation.

* * *

"Xander, what are you doing here?"

Xander waved to Buffy as he walked into the training room. "I heard that Faith was coming over to train with you. I came here to spectate,"

"Huh. You haven't been into ogling sweaty me since you've been getting regular… company," the blonde Slayer replied as she stretched. "How's the pumpkin latte girl anyway?"

"She's nice. But we're not here to talk about my love life. We're here to watch the most violent ballet in the history of dance," Xander said. He grabbed a chair and sat down against the wall. "Anya's bringing popcorn,"

"Seriously, Xan, it's not a big deal," Buffy protested, putting her hands on her hips. "I don't like having an audience when I train. I look all sweaty and icky, its not a good sight,"

"Look Buffy, you know how I make you watch those chop-socky flicks and you tell me how unreal some of the moves are and that the wires stunts are really obvious?" Xander asked. "Yeah, well last night I was looking for wires while the two of you were fighting,"

"That good, huh?" Buffy said in a soft voice.

"That good," Xander affirmed with a nod.

"It felt good. I knew what she wanted to do and what she wanted me to do. And she always knew what I was going to do, always there to help me set it up,"

"And they way you were jumping around! You were a gold medalist in the vampire ass-kicking Olympic event! Like gymnastics with stakes!" Xander said, an excitable gleam in his eye. Buffy smiled at his enthusiasm.

"I knew I could do all that because… because I knew she was watching my back,"

After a short silence, Xander spoke up. "Does this mean we're all cool with her being back?"

"I'm cool with it, Xander. I wanted you to come along last night so you could make up your own mind," Buffy replied.

"I have been avoiding her," Xander admitted. "With good reason,"

"And she's been avoiding the rest of you," Buffy said. "With good reason. But that needs to change. If she's going to be part of this fight, she needs to be part of this group,"

"Yeah, I hear you, glorious leader. Even I have to admit that she's been the good little Slayer and that's a big change from what she was," Xander said. "But…"

"But what?"

"Is it just me, or does this change look not all good to you? Like it came with a price tag she's still paying off?" Xander asked, voice hesitant.

Buffy's sad look was all the answer Xander needed.


	10. Reconnecting

_I claim no rights of ownership. Everything belongs to Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy.**  
**_

**Chapter 10: Reconnecting**

* * *

Faith paused for a minute to let the warm glow of satisfaction spread over her. Another night, another patrol and another _great_ fight. She was shaking a cigarette loose from her pack when she heard familiar footsteps coming towards her.

Dawn. And Spike.

Faith sighed, and bent to light her cigarette. The vampire she was sort of okay with. Buffy was comfortable with him around and the others didn't seem to mind him too much. The younger Summers sister however, was another story altogether.

"Dawn. Late night?" she asked, trying to strike up a friendly conversation, trying to break pattern of the frosty silence that usually accompanied their rare chance encounters.

Unsurprisingly, Dawn made a sharp turn away from Faith and walked into the Summers residence. "See you tomorrow, Spike," the teenager said, with barely a glance backwards. Spike waved at her retreating form, his ever-present look of amusement growing as he looked at the clearly uncomfortable Slayer.

"I could feel the chills, and I'm dead!" he exclaimed, laughing at the Slayer's expense. Faith scowled and began walking. Spike fell into step beside her. "She'll get over it, you know that,"

"Shit ain't fair, though. I never did anything to her, was just those cult people and their fucked up memories making me look like a psycho," Faith groused.

"Monks," Spike corrected. "Life isn't fair, love,"

"Look, I'm all for the making amends these days, but how am I supposed to be sorry for something I never did? Assholes assumed I was gonna be mean to the girl, but shit, did you see how adorable she was back then?"

"Tasty little morsel," Spike said amiably, hands in his pockets.

"Your vampire is showing," Faith remarked. After a brief, but not-uncomfortable silence, she said, "Sorry about the other night,"

"I was looking for a reaction and I got one," Spike replied and just like that, the matter was forgotten. After another brief and not-uncomfortable silence, Spike said, "You seem… you're glowing. The kind that comes from sex, but I don't smell any on you,"

"Huh. It shows, huh?" Faith glanced sidelong at Spike and gave him a slight smile. "Me and B been fighting together. It's been… it's been awesome,"

"I heard from the whelp – Harris. He sounds like he's on the verge of worship,"

"This hotness? He'd better be on his knees," Faith said, cocking her hip out towards Spike in a mock-seductive manner. "But… thanks. You gave me shit to think about,"

"We all need a reason to fight. And we can't do it alone,"

Faith laughed, the melodious sound rising into the still night sky like a hymn. "I ain't alone, blondie," she said and knelt down. Out of nowhere, Dex padded out from the darkness and nuzzled her palm. Spike looked mildly discomfited.

"Where the bloody hell…?"

"Sometimes I think he's magic," Faith said. "And then he drinks out of the toilet and sniffs someone's butt and I know he's just a great fucking dog,"

"First Slayer I've seen with a pet," Spike muttered under his breath, giving Dex the evil eye. He hadn't heard the mutt at all and he was a _vampire_. No living creature could move that silently.

"Speak for yourself, blondie. You're B's pet,"

"Hey!" Spike said, offended. In grudging tones, he then said, "At least I'm housebroken,"

Faith laughed again. "In the grand scheme of things, we're all B's pets,"

"Ain't that the truth. The woman is a force of nature,"

"Glad to be on her side,"

"Me too,"

The walked on in silence for a few more minutes, the swish of Spike's leather coat providing harmony to the rhythm of their booted footsteps. Both of them noticed they were walking in step, but neither thought to mention it.

* * *

The days passed into weeks. Faith spent more time with Buffy, training and patrolling. At times, Xander followed along; sometimes it was Willow, sometimes both. After a while, Faith stopped feeling so much like an outsider.

It helped that Willow and Xander took opportunities to talk to her. Nothing deep or serious, but the type of idle chat that friends and acquaintances held. It made Faith feel better, more welcome. Willow confessed her own dark deeds, to which Faith had raised an eyebrow. But it had served to form a bond of understanding between them and one of acceptance.

Typically, Buffy would retire around midnight. Unlike Faith, the blonde Slayer had a day job to maintain. Faith would continue her patrol, too wound up and filled with adrenaline to sleep. Usually, Spike would appear and accompany her, looking on with admiration as she fought and dispatched demons and vampires. One time, it was Xander that provided her company.

"No work tomorrow, Harris?"

"Day off,"

"Must be nice,"

Xander raised an eyebrow. "What are you talking about? You don't work,"

"What are _you_ talking about?" Faith repeated. She cast an arm out at the cemetery they were walking through. "This is my job,"

Xander have her a half-hearted smile, trying to match her brilliant grin. He faltered. "Faith… when was the last time you took a break?"

The dark-haired Slayer shrugged, twirling her stake with nimble fingers. "Only days off I got were when I was unconscious,"

"Jesus Faith," Xander muttered. "You can't do this to yourself,"

"I ain't doing anything to myself, Harris. I'm just doing my job and my job doesn't provide me the luxury of having sick days," Faith scowled.

"Well tough," Xander grabbed her by the shoulder and spun her around to face him. He waved his crossbow in her face as he spoke. "Tomorrow, we're all going over to Buffy's place and we're going to watch movies and eat pizza until we all puke,"

Faith looked at the tip of the crossbow bolt wavering too close to her eye and then at the mock-stern expression on Xander's face. Unbidden, a smile burst out on her face. "Alright, arm twisted. I'm in," she laughed.

"Fantastic. I'll pick out the movies. God forbid I let you girls do it and I end up watching a Katherine Heigl marathon,"

Faith paused, head cocked to one side. She looked thoroughly confused. "Who the fuck is Katherine Heigl?"

* * *

The next night, after an Asian horror movie marathon, Xander and Faith left the Summers' residence and headed back to Xander's apartment.

"That wasn't so bad, was it?"

"Yeah, Korean horror movies are cool. But I think it freaked out Dex,"

The two brunettes turned around to look at the mongrel slinking along behind them, looking morose. "I feel terrible now," Xander said.

"Nah, don't worry about it, bro. He's a dog, he'll forget all about it tomorrow," Faith said, reaching down to scratch the top of Dex's head. The dog whined and butted Faith's thigh with his nose.

"Thanks, by the way," Faith said, after a short silence.

"For what?"

"For… for being nice. For treating me like a friend," Faith said, with some hesitation. "I know I don't deserve it, not really, but its –"

"Faith," Xander cut her off. "We treated you like an outsider the last time around and it didn't turn out well for any of us. You're tying to be a better person and I gotta respect that. Besides, I – we – like your company,"

Faith nodded, hiding a smile beneath her long hair. She looked up and jerked a thumb at Restfield cemetery. "This is me,"

"You live in a – wait, you're going on patrol?"

"Evil never sleeps, Harris,"

"What happened to getting a day off?" he protested.

"It's past midnight. According to Slayer time, it's a new day," Faith said, backing up towards the cemetery. "I'll see you tomorrow, Harris,"

Xander looked down at Dex, who looked back up at hime with an expression that bordered on understanding. He shrugged. "Take care of her, will ya?" Xander asked. Dex gave a short bark and trotted off to follow his mistress.

* * *

_She sped through the air like a brilliant, blazing star, lighting the way for those who would come after. She twirled and danced, an indescribable joy filling her heart. She looked below her and knew the reason why._

_She had met her sister and their path was the same._

_Her sister seemed to glow with her own radiance and together they could almost pierce the darkness that dwelled beneath them. The shadow recoiled from their presence and she knew that it feared them._

_After millennia apart, she finally had her sister at her side. Together, they could win. This time, they would win._

* * *

Gabriel paced, his impatience evident in every step. He despised using lackeys and minions, disliked being unable to wrap his hands around a problem.

"Gabriel, my love," she said to him and he nearly fell to his knees. Despite the countless years of being together, inseparable, her voice – her _presence_ – would always stagger him with the love he felt for her. "You worry,"

It was a statement, not a question. She knew his mind and his heart better than he did. It was the reason why she sought him out, the reason why they were together. He nodded to her, raised his head to speak and then sighed, shoulders slumped.

He felt her fingers caress his jaw as she spoke, forever gentle. "You mustn't. It is destined,"

"I had her," he whispered, his eyes squeezed shut. "I had her at my mercy and I walked away,"

"And you will be able to show her your mercy again, when the time comes. The Slayer will be the Hunter, you know this," she said and she pressed her body into his. He softened at her touch, the tension in his muscles fading away into nothing. "If not this one, then the next. They are a pest, but it will be over soon,"

"But this one is… skilled. Strong, tough, experienced. I have never faced a warrior like her, never fought a Hunter with her—"

She placed her finger on his lips. She felt his grief, his fear of disappointing and failing her and she, like always, sought to comfort him. "You have beaten the Hunter and the Lightbringer four times. You are unstoppable. You are my herald," she reminded him. "Five trials you must face, five times you must defeat the Champions of Man,"

"Just one more," he said, repeating a mantra that had been theirs for a thousand years. "Just one more,"

"One more act of mercy," she confirmed, laying her cheek on his chest. "And our reign will be eternal,"


	11. Revelations

_Apologies for the delay in updates. Skyrim and Saint's Row the Third has stolen most of my attention. It's a bit short, but I promise that the action will pick up soon._**  
**

**Chapter 11: Revelations**

"Rupert Giles speaking,"

"Mr. Giles? My name is Jonathan Harper, I am the Council liaison to Miss Lehane,"

"Yes, she told me to expect your call. Pardon my asking, but would you happen to be of the Cambridge Harpers?"

"Unfortunately so. Circumstances within the Watcher's Council has allowed our family to resume our duties, despite our less than illustrious past,"

"Superb,"

"Now, I have just returned from an enterprise to the vaults of Vatican City and have couriered you a document that you might find helpful,"

"It arrived just this morning,"

"Excellent. Please do not hesitate to call if you have any questions. I have a few more errands, a few more items to collect. Give my regards to Faith,"

"Have a good evening,"

"You too, Mr. Giles. Good luck,"

* * *

"The Infernal,"

"Sounds dramatic,"

Faith shrugged and tossed her stake into the air. She let out a noisy breath and glanced at the blonde vampire. "That's what Giles calls it. Apparently it's a pure demon that possesses a willing human, which is why it didn't ping my radar,"

"Pure demons are bad news, love," Spike drawled, taking a drag from his cigarette. Actually Faith's cigarette, he had run out and hadn't had the time to get a pack of his own.

"Tell me about it. The way Giles talks it up, it's the end of the world. Again,"

"Don't sound too fussed about it,"

Faith hopped onto a headstone and peered to her left. "Thought I heard something," she muttered. "But yeah, I ain't too worried. The demon isn't quite here yet, forced to live inside a human body. It can't be that bad,"

"Broke your arm the last time around," Spike tapped Faith on the arm and gestured over to the right. She nodded and they swerved to head in that direction.

"Wasn't prepared back then. And I've got back up this time around,"

"So what's he want then, this Infernal?"

"He's apparently an emissary of the Old Ones. He's gonna face down the champions of our world and if he wins this war, the Old Ones get their playground back," Faith gestured to Dex, and the mongrel gave her a short bark. He trotted off into the distance and quickly disappeared behind a mausoleum.

"_That_ doesn't worry you still?" Spike said, raising an eyebrow. "I'm starting to quake in my boots a little and I'm a big damn hero,"

"You're a vampire who lives in a crypt," Faith replied with a grin. "Can't be all that bad. B's on the case and Angel is still a champion, last I checked,"

"Ergh, I can't believe just brought him up. What's he gonna do, beat the bad guy with the weight of his hair gel?"

Faith raised a finger to her lips and she ducked behind a headstone. Spike knelt behind another and glanced over the top. He looked back down at Faith and raised four fingers. Four Yagnoth demons, digging up graves and sucking the bone marrow out of the skeletons. Scavengers and carrion crawlers, but vicious fighters nonetheless. Faith nodded and raised two, then pointed at Spike. The vampire nodded.

"Go," Faith mouthed and she vaulted over the headstone. Spike was close on her heels and she could tell that Dex was circling around to hit them from behind. Yagnoths tended to focus on their food, so she could hit them hard while they were eating. She drew her knife and held it in a reverse grip and jumped the last ten feet.

The Yagnoth shrieked as Faith's blade buried itself just above its collarbone. Her left arm wrapped around its neck and she pulled its head back, exposing the neck. Before the Yagnoth could struggle, Faith dragged the blade across the demon's throat, slicing open its jugular. Her weight brought the both of them down and she rolled off the demon's body. She felt the second Yagnoth's claws slice just inches above her back. She kicked out and felt the Yagnoth's knee crumple.

Faith jumped to her feet and drove her knee into the second Yagnoth's face. It roared out and fell back, but managed to roll away before Faith's boot landed on its face. It swiped at Faith's legs, but the Slayer raised her leg and hopped away. The Yagnoth clambered to its feet, trying to support itself on one leg. Faith didn't give it a chance to regain its balance and lunged forward. She punched it in the jaw and slashed its chest with the knife.

The Yagnoth attacked instead of retreating and swung its claws at Faith. She swayed away from the blow, but it still managed to tear a slice in her shirt and jacket. Faith looked at the tear, scowling.

"This is my only jacket!"

The Yagnoth cackled and jumped forward again, stabbing its claws at her face. Faith grabbed the Yagnoth's arm and pushed it out wide. She thrust her knife upwards and buried it hilt deep into the demon's jaw. The body slumped over and Faith tossed it over in Spike's direction. It collided with the third Yagnoth, which was attempting to jump on Spike from behind.

Spike was wrestling with the last Yagnoth and managed to snap its neck, just as the third Yagnoth climbed to its feet. Faith pounced on the third Yagnoth and kicked it in the chest, sending it flying. It crashed against the wall of a crypt. Before it had time to land, Faith jumped on top of it, grabbed it by the neck and slammed it against the wall. The Yagnoth snarled and swiped at Faith, but she ducked underneath its arm, grabbed it and snapped it at the elbow. The demon didn't have time to shriek in pain before Faith stabbed it in the heart.

She walked away from the demon corpse, flicking the blood off her knife. She inspected the tear in her jacket and t-shirt, frowning.

"Problem?" Spike asked. He wiped blood off his lip and spat at the taste.

"Rips I can sew up, but I hate fixing zippers," she complained.

"Buy a new one. Tweeds across the pond give you money, don't they?"

"Yeah," Faith said grudgingly. "I've had this one a long time, though,"

Spike fingered the leather jacket. "Clean tear. Sentimental value?"

Faith hesitated. "Angel gave it to me,"

"Ah," Spike said, nodding slowly. Faith could tell that he was holding something back and she rolled her eyes, giving him permission to continue. Relieved, he grinned wide. "What is it about that big poof, anyway? Broody forehead is like a chick magnet, I don't get it,"

Faith smirked. "You are so jealous of him,"

"I am not!" Spike sounded indignant. "I'll fight you if you say that again,"

Faith was quiet. "He saved my life," she finally said. "Same way Buffy saved yours,"

Spike glanced at her, hands in his pockets. "Pretty picture the two of us paint, eh? Loyal lapdogs to the real champions,"

"Hey, speak for yourself, blondie. I'm the friggin' Slayer," Faith smiled. "Hey, you wanna get a burger?"

"Works for me. Place over on Fifth has great fries," Spike said, pointing. Faith nodded and they veered towards that direction.

"I'm not worried either," Spike said again. "With them on the case, there's no way we can lose. Even with Angel mucking things up,"

"You're starting to look a bit green there, Spike. Looks good on you," Faith teased, poking Spike in the ribs.

"You're as annoying as he is," Spike gave her little shove. "Maybe we should start shagging, horn in on their little Slayer-Vampire romance novel,"

"Please," Faith replied with a mock grimace, waving her fingers at Spike. "You're not my type,"

* * *

_She drove forward, unstoppable. She could feel warmth from above her, and a light. The light provided guidance and a path for those to come after. She had no light, no warmth but her own. She raced across great distances, vaulted over obstacles and destroyed barriers. She did not do so without exertion. But she moved forward, tireless and unfailing._

_She provided no guidance, no path. She did it to prove that it was possible._

* * *

The phone rang five and a half times before Giles leaned over his desk to pick it up. He rubbed his eyes tiredly and in the back of his mind noted that he had been reading for a straight eleven hours.

"Hello?" he said, clearing his throat after his voice cracked. He reached over to take a sip of tea, frowning when he noticed that the cup was empty.

"Mr. Giles? This is Jonathan Harper," Faith's Council liaison was sounding rather rushed and flustered. "I'm afraid I've managed to find some rather disturbing news,"

"It's a far cry from the complete lack of information I've managed to turn up, so any sort of news is welcoming right now,"

"Not this type of news, Mr. Giles," Harper replied. "I uncovered a scroll from a library in Estonia that has a record of previous incidents with the same signs. The Infernal, some manner of duel, Champions and Old Ones,"

"Please don't keep me in suspense, Mr. Harper,"

"The Infernal is a champion of the Old Ones, a herald for their new reign of terror upon Earth. In order for this to happen, he has to win five duels. If all accounts are accurate, this next duel is the fifth,"

"He's won all previous duels?"

"The Old Ones cheat. The representatives for Earth and humanity are chosen as part of the compact. But the Infernal finds them and kills them before they are given the role, allowing him to win by default,"

"So we must find these… representatives and protect them before anything happens to them,"

"Indeed, Mr. Giles. And you won't have to go very far. The first representative, the first champion is the Slayer,"


End file.
